Friends Locked in Boxes
by quizasvivamos
Summary: Kurt & Blaine are assassins from separate brotherhoods. For Blaine, it's just a job, a way to keep from starving, but, for Kurt, it's thrilling and puts extra gold in his pocket. When their secret lives collide, and they unknowingly get caught up in a dangerous game, will their instincts kick in before they make a fatal mistake? *M: graphic violence & sexually explicit cont.*
1. Chapter 1

***[UPDATED]* Author's Notes:** First of all, this is NOTHING like my other stories. Next, be advised that the inspiration for this story came from my love for fantasy epics and the countless hours I have spent playing Elder Scrolls video games (yep) in which, admittedly, my favorite quest line is always the Dark Brotherhood. This takes place in a similar time period and is partially based on the game. But it's not supposed to be the game. I wasn't sure what genre this fit into, so I tried my best to categorize it.

*****The characters in this story are canon-based personality types, and much of the plot can be tied back to canon. However, it may be shocking to read if you can not detach yourself from the world of the "happy Glee McKinley High" universe and consider these characters in a much darker, more barbaric time. In this story, they are victims of circumstance outside their control.

*****I was advised to warn about the nature of Kurt's character. In the summary, I state that Kurt finds being an assassin "thrilling". To make things clearer, Kurt is a sadist to a degree, especially at the start of the story. If this bothers you, then by all means, don't read on. If you are not a fan of S&M (although it's fairly mild), then this is not the story for you, and I apologize.

*****There is character death. With a story about assassins, that seems to be a given. So, if you're okay with violence, killing, and crazy, sadistic, twisty plots, then, by all means, continue on, and I hope you enjoy this story.

*****It has been a pleasure to create this world and this story, and I'm aware that it's not everyone's cup of tea, but it's still quite a story. Thank you for reading (if you so choose)!

* * *

Kurt reached under the dusty, wooden bar counter to grab a few glasses for the three new customers that had just ambled into the dimly lit inn. He pulled a cloth from his apron and pushed it inside each glass, swirling it around to wipe the dusty film from the interior before setting them down in front of his guests.

"What will it be?" he asked the one man. He was large, bearded, wore a heavy wool cloak, and smelled of - what was that? Something rancid that Kurt couldn't place. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the man. He obviously wasn't from around here. The crest on the man's cloak clued him in.

"Just a pint of ale," he answered gruffly.

"And I'm assuming you'll need a room?"

"Just for the night."

"Of course," Kurt said as he filled up the glass and then stepped into the back room to fetch a room key. He placed it on the counter in front of the man. "It's the first on the right," he pointed out before moving to the other end of the bar.

A soft music tinkled throughout the inn coming from what sounded like a small string instrument. The source was a bard who was situated by the crackling fire in the fireplace and was singing some nonsense about charming lasses and companionless journeys. Kurt returned his attention to the other two customers: a poor farmer from the village and the town drunk. He knew their faces, but he never made an effort to learn anyone's name in town. Just faces and usual orders. Whatever kept them sated and coming back for more.

It wasn't solely because Kurt didn't care to learn names or to get close to the people in town, it just wouldn't do him any good. Any of them could be his next contract, and any attachment could make things, well, complicated.

Judging by what was visible through the small windows of the inn, the sunlight was quickly fading as the day hung loosely on the edge of night. There was maybe about an hour remaining, and he was already becoming anxious to hand his duties over to the apprentice, Finn, for the night. He had other business to attend to, and it could get very messy.

Blaine took the glass of mead habitually handed to him and dropped his coin in the innkeeper's hand with a nod and a "thanks" before turning on the bar stool to watch the bard strum on with weary eyes. The town drunk grumbled next to him.

"Bastard's sang the same song past three nights. Bloody man needs to learn a new tune."

Blaine wouldn't know. He didn't come in here often and usually only on nights when he was feeling especially stressed out. Nights when he was being summoned for another contract. The pay out was good - better than selling his crops in the Imperial market. So he kept returning and didn't ask questions.

He was good at his job, probably the best in his brotherhood, but that didn't mean that he didn't become ill after each kill. One would assume he'd be used to this after three years, but the killing never became easier. The act did, but the remorse, the following weeks of nightmares containing the victim's sometimes blank, sometimes horror-stricken, pained, contorted, lifeless faces - that never went away, and he never enjoyed it.

He drained his glass and tossed the innkeeper another coin as a tip before rising and heading out the door into the dusk. Santana would be expecting him at the base in a matter of minutes. He spat on the ground before pushing open the heavy door to his small cottage, stomped off the mud that had been caked on his boots, and entered, closing the door behind him.

His robes were already laid out on the bed. Blaine carefully slipped them on, making sure to pull his gloves up to conceal every inch of skin. He couldn't afford being caught. It almost always meant death - not necessarily his own. He leaned down and, from under the bed, he pulled a small, locked box, encrusted with rubies. After retrieving the key from the bottom of a large, clay pot in the corner of the room, he unlocked the box and lifted the small dagger from its velvet casings. Nightshade, he called it: a little poison on the tip, and he never failed to complete a contract. The kills were usually quick and relatively clean.

Closing the box, he slid it back under the bed and concealed the dagger in the sheath especially equipped in his left boot. Blaine pulled the hood up over his head and let the shadows wash over his features and conceal his identity. He was anonymous now, a ghost.

And, like a ghost, he swiftly glided off into the dark, still night.

-A-

Kurt stood by the entrance to the cavern, his quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder and strapped tightly across his back and chest. Holding his bow in his left hand, he placed his right hand to the stone entrance. All at once, reacting to the heat of his touch, the stone lit up and glowed a ghastly blue. The doors shifted open. He entered.

The clicking of the heels of his boots reverberated off of the floor and walls of the dark, stone entrance hall to the base. When he reached the end and turned the corner, he was greeted by a familiar voice and face.

"Hummel, it's good to see you showed, eager as always, I'm sure," Noah said, narrowing his eyes darkly and smirking. He crossed his arms and leaned up against the wall.

"Always. There's nothing like the thrill of a good kill. You know how it gets me, adrenaline pumping fast through my veins - I just get off to their cold, expressionless faces," Kurt licked his lips. "So what's on the menu tonight, boss? Or should I ask, who?" Kurt said, grinning maliciously.

"One of our regulars put out another contract on _another_ one of the imperial nobles. This time it's a woman," he said, handing Kurt a scroll with the assignment.

"Oh, that's exciting. Those greedy bastards can't seem to ever get along," he said with mock concern. "Is there a family I need to worry about?" he asked, unrolling the scroll to skim over it, taking note of the location.

"No. She lives alone, pretty little wealthy thing that she is. A widow. Couldn't tell you if she's dangerous or not, but I'd keep my guard up as usual," Noah explained.

"Of course. We like to keep our customers happy," Kurt said with a smirk, miming the dropping of coins into his satchel and patting it against his side. He rolled the scroll back up and slipped it into his belt.

"Exactly. Now go make me proud, and give me more of a reason to brag about you to clients. You're always in demand."

"Won't let you down," he said, saluting Noah, and he turned back towards the entrance. Kurt retraced his steps back through the hall and stepped out into the open air. There was a slight breeze now that sent chills down his spine and through his extremities. He shivered, feeling suddenly energized. And, wasting no more time, he went striding off into the night towards his game.

-A-

Blaine was crouched down and hidden behind a bush in the alley between two buildings when he first saw him. The tall, slender, dark, hooded figure swooped down like a bat from the rooftop above him and dashed off towards the back of the house across the way. Oh _hell_ no. That was his kill. Who was this guy? And who sent him? How could this have happened? Either this bitch had a lot of enemies, or someone was fucking with him. He chose to believe the former. After all, there had to be some reason someone wanted her out of the picture. It's not like he ever got to find out the reasons either, and he decided he probably was better off not knowing. All he could do now was sit there is frustration with bated breath to see if his suspicions were correct.

-A-

Kurt pressed his body up against the side of the house, slowly turning his head first to one side and then to the other, squinting through the darkness. He had a feeling, and he could sense someone was watching him, but that was impossible. There was no one in sight. Must have been a cat or something, he thought. He ducked down by the lock on the back door and carefully inserted and maneuvered his lock pick. A moment later, he heard a small click as the lock popped, and he slowly pushed his way into the dark house.

He made his way up the stairs, bow at the ready, and approached the bedroom. The door was ajar, and it was dark save a fire that was burning down in the fireplace, casting a faint glow against the walls and on the objects in the room. This was a nice atmosphere, he thought.

He glanced over to the bed, and his eyes fell upon the unconscious woman who looked rather peaceful, her body rising and falling steadily with her breathing. He walked over to the side of the bed and leaned over to view her better. A curtain of blonde hair fell across her forehead and partially concealed her face. She had very delicate features, small, typical of Imperial nobles. Her lips were pink and slightly parted.

It would be so easy to shoot an arrow straight into her chest and let her bleed out or to send one zinging through her eye socket and into her brain in order to quickly fulfill this contract. But Kurt liked to play with his victims, liked to revel in the kill, make them suffer. She was still asleep in front of him as he bent over her body, smiling wickedly to himself.

Taking out some rope from his satchel, he went to work tying her legs and then her wrists together, being careful not to wake her. Not yet, anyway. Then he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and balled it up. Slowly approaching her parted lips, he gently placed one hand on her forehead and, using a thumb, pulled her chin down to force her mouth open before roughly stuffing the fabric into it. Her breath hitched, and her eyes shifted behind her eyelids.

"Time to wake up, honey," he said quietly by her ear.

Then she nearly choked, and her eyes shot open. She lay there for a moment completely disoriented. Then a flash of recognition and terror took over her features as she tried to let out a scream that was muffled by the fabric.

"No one will hear you. Don't worry, there's only one thing I want from you, and it won't take long."

Her eyes glazed over with fear as she came to the realization that her arms and legs were tied. She began struggling, whimpering as she writhed in the bed, but she soon discerned that there was no chance of escaping. She let out another muffled scream that caught in her throat as she tightly closed her eyes. Tears formed at the corners and rolled down her pale cheeks and caught in her golden hair.

Kurt was now bored of watching her struggle, so he nonchalantly took a small knife from out of his belt and placed it to the woman's temple. Her breathing grew even more rapid as her chest heaved violently, her eyes widening at the contact of the cool metal on her skin.

"Oh. Don't panic, sweetie. I'm not going to ruin your pretty face. No. I think I'll cut in - right - here," he said moving his knife to her exposed forearm. He entered it slowly into her soft flesh. Her whole body surged as she tried again to expel sound from her vocal chords, but nothing came out. She now had to focus on breathing past the handkerchief on which she was gagging and nearly suffocating from. He ran the knife from the bottom of her wrist, slitting the flesh all the way up to the crook of her arm. Blood began to surface - first in droplets, then in thin streams. It was Kurt's signature cut, how he left his mark on his victims.

He never let them bleed out though. It was never as satisfying. Then, looking her straight in the eye, he raised up his bow, slid an arrow out from his quiver, and, from a few feet away, set the arrow and aimed it at her skull.

"I promise. You won't feel a thing," he said, letting go of the tension and sending the arrow flying straight through her her left eye socket where it pierced through her flesh and became buried in her brain. Her body twitched for a brief moment and then went slack. Her head fell completely to the side, and her limbs lay limply beside her.

The blood from the incision in her arm continued to slowly seep out, soaking the bed clothes. Kurt stared on only for a brief moment longer before retrieving his handkerchief and stowing it and his weapons on his person. He opened the window on the side of the house facing the alley and swung up out of it and onto the roof. That was quite an admirable job he had done - if he could admit it. Now to collect his prize. What a fantastic end to the night.

-A-

After watching the house for a short while, Blaine saw a shadow flit across an upstairs window. Then nothing. Silence. The other assassin climbed out of the window onto the roof and leaped across the buildings and out of sight. Shit. That fucker took his kill, and now he better get out of here before any guards decided to show up. Santana would be pissed, and he would go home with empty pockets tonight.

But how exactly would he explain this one to her? Never in his career had anything like this happened nor did he ever hear about such blunders.

Once he was safely out of the city limits, he recovered and mounted his horse and rode quickly off toward the base.

-A-

"Excuse me? What are you trying to say? Because I _thought_ I just heard you say that someone else beat you to the kill," Santana said scathingly.

"That's exactly what happened," Blaine answered, swallowing nervously.

"You better not be fucking with me because we don't let clients down, especially new ones. We want to make a good first impression, and this is _so_ far from good that it's disastrous," Santana sneered at Blaine, crossing her arms and spitting on the ground in front of her.

"There was nothing I could do. He was already there, and he was much too quick," he explained, flustered.

"Alright, Anderson. I believe you, but I never thought you'd ever let me down. Next time, you better get there first and get rid of the little bastard. It's not good for business - competition," Santana said as if the word tasted awful in her mouth. She turned and stepped away to examine the hilt of a sword atop a nearby table. She ran her hand over it, and Blaine's eyes darted quickly from the sword and back to Santana.

"There better not be a next time. I'd like to believe that what took place was just a very unfortunate coincidence that will never happen again," he answered her.

Then, without looking at him - "Good. I like your attitude. Now go the fuck home, because we're done for the night," she scoffed. Santana spun to face Blaine again who looked downtrodden. "I already sent Sam out on the other contract we received, and he'll probably be back within the hour."

Agitated and catching onto Santana's mocking tone, he slouched off into the night. By the time he reached the village, he was feeling even worse about the whole situation. He found it bizarre and incredibly maddening, but he knew that brooding over his failure would result in nothing good. He figured it was best to just sleep it off. It would probably be a dry month.


	2. Chapter 2

The midday sun beat down upon the back field, and Blaine paused in his work to wipe the sweat from his brow. His skin was hot and coated with dirt, and his muscles ached from hours of strenuous labor in this unforgiving heat. Drought had made the land arid and caused his crops to be scarce this season. He spent the time cursing his luck as he pulled up potatoes, the only thing he had to sell at the market, and that supply was barely keeping him alive. The little other that he managed to grow, he needed to feed himself. If it didn't rain soon, then he would have to rely on a different source of income. How had his life come to this, he wondered. Sometimes he felt like a slave to his own mortality.

It was as if some force was drawing him closer and closer, beckoning him to need to resort to murder, to contracts with the brotherhood to survive. These were desperate times. So were those times in which he first became involved. As he continued to dig the potatoes up from the hard earth, he thought back three years ago to when he was hard on his luck, and a fatal accident opened a door for him that was both terrifying and convenient.

Blaine had resided in the city across the river on the other side of the mountain. He wasn't a farmer then but a smith and an arms dealer. One unfortunate night brought him face to face with a bad deal. A group of men entered his shop requesting that he forge them full sets of armor and weaponry, but the deadline they gave him was impossible to meet. They wouldn't take no for an answer. The days passed, and he worked through day and night trying to complete this impossible task. He didn't want trouble. In fact, Blaine only aimed to please and never sought a fight with any man.

The day dawned when the men expected their order, but Blaine had yet to finish. They sent in one man, one much larger than Blaine in stature. Everything Blaine said was taken as an excuse. The situation soon became heated, and Blaine shut down and into himself. As soon as the man drew his weapon and advanced on Blaine, the rest became a blur, an out of body experience. When Blaine came to, and his brain fully registered the situation, he was on the floor, his chest heaving and his hands drenched in blood as he wrenched a dagger from out of the other man's chest. He panicked. Then he became violently ill, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor of the shop. It was an accident, merely self-defense, but he knew now that he needed to escape as he stumbled his way out of the shop with tears in his eyes, his head still swimming.

He packed up and left in the night. While riding swiftly down the road atop his horse, the wind whipped past his face, blood pounded in his ears, and only the clacking sound of metal on gravel and his heavy breathing could be heard echoing through the darkness. Suddenly, a stranger in a dark cloak seemed to materialize out of thin air, startling his horse. Blaine was nearly thrown off as he skidded to an abrupt stop, pulling up on the reins.

Fear immediately washed over him. His first thought was that they had found him, and he was soon to be a dead man. But, to his surprise, the stranger did not attack. The hooded figure did not speak but pulled a scroll from inside its robe and extended it towards Blaine who, confused, took it reluctantly. And almost as soon as he blinked, it was gone again. It was a letter, an invitation. Whoever this was, they had seen what he had done, the murder, what he was capable of. At the end of his rope and feeling like he had nothing left to lose, he heeded the call. That night, he was introduced to Santana and his new family, the brotherhood. He began his new life, the life of a cold-blooded killer. It was his curse.

So he disappeared, cut all ties, and changed his identity. The dagger was the only thing remaining from his old life, a family heirloom. When he arrived in the village, he bought a shack on the edge of town with the remainder of his wealth from his former life, the one he could never return to. He learned to live off the earth and created for himself a new persona, one of a farmer. It was a tired occupation that offered little or no reward, save keeping him alive. And that's all he could hope for.

-A-

The small shack connected to the back of the inn was homey enough. After all, it was just Kurt living there alone. The inn itself was rich in history, a business inherited from his father and passed down through generations. It was the last thing he had, the last connection to his father, something he would never rid from his life. Call him sentimental, but this was the only remaining thing he cared about.

Kurt had no family for years now, no close emotional ties with anyone, and this worked out for him. When he was a young child, his mother became ill and died not long after. Heartbroken, his father went on to run the inn on his own, taking Kurt as his apprentice to prepare him for the day he would eventually take over. He couldn't have imagined that that one day would come too soon.

It was a fairly quiet night, only a few patrons here and there, when a man entered the inn and demanded to see his father about unfinished business of some sort. Kurt couldn't really make out the man's face when it happened. The next thing he knew, an argument broke out between his father and the stranger. It became violent quickly, and Kurt, having no training in combat, could only stand and watch helplessly. His father told him to run, but he stood frozen and watched on in horror as the life left his father's face. Then the killer rose up and looked directly into Kurt's eyes before taking off.

Those eyes were burned into Kurt's vision from that day on, and he would never forget it, what he saw. He vowed to find this man and make him pay for what he did. For the next two years, the word revenge sat always on the tip of Kurt's tongue and at the front of his mind. He trained in archery, practicing endlessly day and night, stopping at nothing until he was quite the sharpshooter.

He found that man. Conveniently, he was a furs dealer from the next town over who often hunted in a specific patch of woods, a familiar haunt for Kurt. One arrow. That's all it took. Kurt made it count. From his perch in a tree, he took that man down and watched him bleed out on the ground before him. It felt so good. But, somehow, it wasn't enough, wasn't fulfilling in the way he thought it would be, to finally take down the man who took what he cared most about in the world from him.

When he lay in bed that evening, Kurt was visited by a faceless stranger garbed in black who soundlessly broke into his home. Instinctively, he feared for his life. He was still shaken from the kill, was restless and angry, and believed someone had come for him.

But the stranger silently handed him a scroll and then turned on heel and leaped out through the window, disappearing just as quickly and quietly as he came. It was as if the writer of the letter could read his mind, had known everything he had been through and what he was capable of, what he now craved. He responded to the call, feeling like maybe it would sate the thirst he now felt, would fulfill him in a way that nothing else could. The following night, he was inducted and learned just how much more interesting his life could be. It was a sport, a game, and Kurt soon grew to love it, wearing the crest of the brotherhood with pride. It empowered him and gave him something he never felt before. He was no longer a helpless and afraid little boy, but a man in control of his own fate.

The only companion Kurt had was his apprentice, Finn Hudson. There were purely selfish reasons for taking the then boy under his wing. Although Finn wasn't much for conversation, he was nice to look at; Kurt often stood by and admired his tall, lean, muscular body. He enjoyed watching him work, liked having him around. It was his only weakness. But it was all strictly business, and the fantasies that Kurt had created in his head had to be forgotten before he took it a little too far. He wasn't lonely, but the nights he slept, he slept alone, his hand the only thing he knew to relieve his frustrations.

Kurt sighed heavily and leaned the broom up against the corner of the room. "Finn, can you go out back and bring in some firewood for tonight?" Kurt asked, brushing his hands off on his apron.

"Of course," Finn replied with a grin.

"I'll probably be out again tonight tending to some business, so I'll need you to look after the patrons and the inn," Kurt explained.

"No problem."

Kurt watched as Finn exited and made his way out towards the hutch behind the inn where the logs were stored. He carried wood over to a nearby stump, and, setting it on end, lifted the ax and brought it down, cleaving the log in two. Almost immediately, Finn broke out into a sweat as he carried on the task in the glaring sun. Kurt bit his bottom lip as he watched on shamelessly, his hands running to rest against his thighs. Although Kurt was capable of handling men much larger than himself with ease, something about the possibility that someone might be capable of overpowering him really turned him on. He was always up for a challenge.

But Finn soon finished the task, and Kurt turned away now feeling a pit in his stomach. He knew that Finn messed around with the women in town, and he would never look twice at Kurt. He had gotten used to being lonely, but, sometimes he thought about how his life could have been different - if he still had a family, if he hadn't begun this secret life, if he didn't have these feelings for men. But, he wondered, if that were the case, was this just his lot in life, and would he really be himself otherwise?

-A-

Two weeks passed before Blaine was called for another contract. The days dragged on, and Blaine's body, morale, and hope were all wearing thin; however, the new summons finally arrived, and, for once, he welcomed it. This time, there was no chance he would make a mistake. He was determined to make Santana believe in him again.

Kurt handed his duties over to Finn and suited up for the night. It had been two weeks since he had murdered that woman, and he was about ready for another contract. It kept life interesting. He pulled his hood up and slipped out the back door.

-A-

Blaine acted quickly, careful not to waste any time. He circled the house making sure that no one was around and then located his access point. It was a fairly large manor, and he decided he would go in through the cellar. Once he broke the lock and was inside, he inched his way up the stone steps to the door that would open into the main section of the house. But when he reached the door, he noticed candlelight flickering through the cracks. It was very possible that this person was still awake, and that could makes things just a little more complicated.

He held his breath and gently pushed the door open. He let out a heavy sigh of relief. The coast was clear. That meant that they were probably asleep after all, so the bedroom was his next destination. Careful not to make a sound, he crept along through the shadows until he reached the stairs and ascended them. The first room he checked was empty, but the second door he opened led him to his goal. He flicked his eyes side to side as he scoped out his surroundings. Then he heard soft laughter coming from somewhere in the room, his stomach dropped, and he jumped slightly at the sound. He drew his dagger and ducked down, prepared to take on whatever was in store for him. Then his eyes locked on the man.

"Well, well, well," the thin-faced, brunette said as he stared at Blaine from his seat in the corner of the room. A smile played on his lips. This wasn't the first time that Blaine had come face to face with his next victim while they were conscious, but he knew he must act quickly before he sounded the alarm.

Blaine rushed forward, pressing his blade against the man's neck. However, it was strange how this man was surprisingly relaxed even with Blaine's dagger held to his throat. "You aren't going to kill me now, are you? That's a shame. A dark, mysterious man comes into my home - my bedroom even - at an odd hour of the night, and I don't even get to enjoy him." He pouted.

Blaine stood there, blade still in position, but something was holding him in place and making him incapable of going through with the act. Was this man serious? He stared into the man's green eyes and wondered what was going through his head. He was going to die. Didn't he understand that? But Blaine was still immobilized, distracted by the man's odd manner.

"How about a proper introduction? My name's Sebastian. You don't have to tell me yours if you don't want to. Besides, name's aren't important and are easily forgotten the morning after," he said with an air of confidence. Or maybe it was just arrogance.

Cocky son of a bitch, Blaine thought. He grabbed Sebastian by the hair and yanked his head back, the dagger still poised at his throat, coming closer and closer to his exposed flesh. He thinks he's going to charm his way out of this one, Blaine thought. But Blaine was fighting something inside himself that was nagging at him and clouding his thoughts. This man knew what he was capable of. Damn it, he was attractive, Blaine thought, and his words were affecting Blaine in a way he wanted so badly to ignore, but none of that was going to save him. Then Sebastian emitted a soft groan which stirred Blaine from his thoughts.

"Is that how you like it? You want to be rough with me? I can't remember the last time I let a man pull on my hair like that. I think I like tha - "

With the hand still tightly gripping the dagger, Blaine slammed his fist into the side of Sebastian's face. His head jerked to the side and then whipped back around, blood trickling down from where his skin had split open. Blaine poised the blade by his throat again.

"Not much of a conversationalist, I see. Well, then why don't we take this somewhere more - _intimate_. I promise you, no talking is necessary," he said, his voice still calm but a bit strained. His cocky smirk soon turned into a toothy grin. The way he was acting was unfathomable to Blaine. Blaine glanced at the man's muscled chest visible through his thin night clothes before pulling the dagger to rest now against his skin. He watched the man lick his lips. Blaine felt his pants grow tighter, and he began to sweat.

"Fuck - I don't know who you think you are," Blaine growled, now mere inches from Sebastian's face, "but you can forget whatever sick fantasies you have in your head - that's not how this night's going to play out. Someone wants you dead, and I'm here to make sure that happens."

"I guess I'm out of luck. Such a shame and a waste. I would have loved to see what those dark robes are concealing."

"Never. You sick bastard." And with that, Blaine slashed his dagger quickly across the man's throat, cutting through flesh and tendon. Now, only the sound of the man choking on his own blood could be heard as he quickly bled out. This was definitely a messier method than he usually preferred, but he wanted to silence this man immediately. His words were making Blaine uncomfortable, and they were conjuring thoughts that would never bring any good in this situation. He felt his half-hard cock pressing against his pants, and he knew he needed to get out of there quickly.

Once outside, Blaine stepped lightly and with great precision because he was acutely aware that there was a chance he was being followed. A twig snapped under his foot, and he internally cursed the noise it made because he knew that even the minutest sound could give him away.

_Thud_. His whole body was thrown down onto the ground as he tumbled a few feet before coming to a stop, his head slammed down into the hard earth. A searing pain rushed through his head, and the wind had been completely knocked out of him. He desperately tried to refill his lungs with a sharp intake of air. He was pinned, caught under the weight of a larger man, a figure he recognized all too well. This was his chance. With a burst of adrenaline, Blaine pushed the larger man off of him and quickly stood up, drawing his dagger.

For as small a build the other man was, his strength caught Kurt off-guard, and he was pleasantly surprised. Then he leaped backwards and was just as quick on the draw, his bow now at the ready, his hand prepared to quickly pull an arrow from its casing and send it the other man's way.

They circled each other, pacing around as they stared each other down. It was obvious that Kurt had the upper hand here, but there were answers he needed before he disposed of this nuisance. It seemed the other man had the same idea.

"Who are you? What is your business here?" Blaine asked, staring into the shadowed features of the other man's face.

"It doesn't matter who I am, and I believe you just took _my_ business," Kurt said.

"Funny. I'm pretty sure that you stole my kill not too long before - "

"I knew someone was there," Kurt interrupted, swearing under his breath. "Well, you must be really bad at your job," he mocked. "You made no attempt to come after me."

"I'm not going to entertain you. If anything, you should be dead at my hands right now," Blaine growled.

"But I'm not. You can't kill me," Kurt sneered.

"Watch me." Blaine suddenly leaped forward and thrust the dagger in Kurt's direction. Kurt shuffled to the side, dodging Blaine's attempt, and managed to grab Blaine by the arms, spinning him around and restraining him.

"Nice try. I always win," Kurt said by his ear, pushing his arms up against his body, his bow pressing into Blaine's spine.

Blaine swung his leg around, catching his foot behind Kurt's knee, and sent him toppling over onto the ground. He escaped Kurt's grasp and regained his footing. He turned to face down his opponent, his heart now pounding in his chest.

"Smooth one. I see you do have some training. How about we settle this with our hands and nothing else," Kurt said, rising up and dropping his weapons to the ground.

"No," Blaine said simply, and he lunged for Kurt, slicing into his forearm. Kurt grabbed the stinging, bloody flesh, sucking in air between his clenched teeth, and winced as he applied pressure.

"You fucker," he hissed. "I'm unarmed, and you choose to play dirty. I'll break your fucking skull open."

Kurt swung at Blaine and missed as Blaine rolled out of the way. Then Kurt lunged for Blaine and swung again. _Crack_. A fist came into contact with Blaine's jaw and his head turned sharply to the side, his vision going blank for a split second. Kurt laughed, and Blaine reached up to massage his jaw.

"I'm not doing this now. One death was enough for tonight," Blaine said before turning on his heel and dashing off away from where Kurt was still standing, breathless and gripping his wounded arm.

Kurt stood and stared on, mouth agape. "You bloody coward!" he shouted after him. But Blaine was already gone, swallowed up by the darkness. This was unreal, he thought. So, there was another assassin sent on the same contract? While they were fighting, Kurt took notice of the crest on his cloak and knew that this must be a rival brotherhood. There was something way too fishy about this situation, he thought, as he pieced together the little he could gather from the encounter.

-A-

Upon entering the base, Kurt immediately went to work cleaning and dressing his arm. While it wasn't that bad, the gash was still a significant injury that he would have trouble hiding. He would fight through the pain anyway. It was rare that he obtained injuries on the job, but he managed to remain focused and not let them affect his work.

Noah noticed the urgency in Kurt's behavior and offered his aid which Kurt immediately refused. He was too proud, and Noah knew it.

"Don't worry about it. I've got it," Kurt mumbled as he wrapped the cloth bandage tightly around his arm.

"How did this happen?"

"We have competition," Kurt explained bitterly.

"What do you mean?" Noah asked, confused.

"When I arrived on the scene, there was already an assassin from a rival brotherhood inside, and he beat me to the kill." Kurt fastened the bandage and stood up straight again. Although he was facing Noah, his gaze was transfixed on the floor by his feet.

"That's impossible."

"It's not. It happened, but I managed to get a good look at him - although his face was concealed. We had a bit of a struggle before he ran off like a coward." Kurt paused and clenched his fist by his side. "I was prepared to kill him. He - he told me that I wasn't alone on my hunt last time either."

"Kurt," Noah began, pausing to contemplate. "Don't waste him yet. I wanna know more about who sent him and why. This could be dangerous for us, or it could just be a bizarre coincidence, but I want answers first."

"But -" Kurt began angrily, his wound still fresh and the responsible party still fresh in his mind, but then he relaxed and nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Now go home and rest for a while. That cut looked pretty nasty. We need you in top shape before I send you out again. I can't risk losing you. I'll let you know when I want you back out there."

As much as Kurt wanted to argue with Noah about this one, he knew he was right. But extended time at home meant that Kurt would have time to stew, to become consumed with the anger he was now feeling toward this stranger. It would give him too much time to think, to plot, and to decide, for when the time came, just how he was going to destroy this man. And he would make him suffer.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt barely made it home that night after the encounter. His head was spinning, his vision began to blur, and his body felt weak as he stumbled in through the back door. He slammed into the wall on his way to his bedroom, all the while cursing under his breath and hoping that none of the guests had heard anything. He undressed clumsily, carelessly throwing his robes somewhere on the floor.

When he slipped into his bed, he became feverish, and his breathing became labored. The pain in his chest was unbearable. Oh, god, he thought. He wasn't really going to go down like this? He was stronger than that. Kurt, although exhausted, was afraid to close his eyes and possibly slip into an unconscious state he couldn't come out of, but, the next thing he knew, he was overcome with nausea and began spewing up the contents of his stomach down the front of his underclothes and onto his bed clothes.

His chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath. He reached up and wiped cold sweat from his brow. Chills ran up and down his spine, and he began to feel absolutely delirious. Then his whole body jerked again as he vomited violently once more.

He grabbed his wounded arm as his body continued to shake. That couldn't have been an ordinary dagger he had been cut by, he deduced. There must have been something on it. His body was trying its best to rid itself of - poison, Kurt thought.

Damn it. The other assassin poisons his blade, and he must have gotten the aftermath of whatever hadn't seeped into the poor bastard the other man had killed.

He would be lying if he tried to say he wasn't terrified about this mystery poison now running through his veins, but he shook and shivered and sweat throughout the night, letting his body dispel the toxins from his system.

When he awoke to the sun beating in his face the next morning, he couldn't help but laugh. He had woken up. He had narrowly escaped death, and his laughter rang out through the back room for a good long moment before he calmed down. His muscles ached, but, luckily, it hadn't been enough to kill him, he thought. What an unfortunate turn of events that would have been.

Over the next few weeks, he regained his strength and was careful to conceal the injury as it healed. It proved difficult at times because he had to change the bandage often, and he was very nearly caught one night when Finn saw him knock into the side of the bar and wince.

"Kurt, are you alright?" Finn asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's really nothing. I just hit the corner at a weird angle," Kurt lied. Finn wasn't fully convinced, but Kurt was aware that he was watching him closely the rest of the week. It was frustrating for Kurt to see Finn concerned like this. Especially since it was nothing he would ever be willing to share with him. Not that he really had a choice.

-A-

Blaine finally had a little extra gold and figured he would treat himself to a drink after his last success, so he strolled over to the inn in town. That last night on the job played over and over in his head regardless of how much he tried to block it out. And it was frustrating. Never before had anything quite like that happened. He never had one of his victims try to _seduce_ him, and he was frustrated with himself that it had almost worked, at least, Blaine had been uncomfortably aroused. Maybe the drink wasn't so much a treat as it was intended to drown out these unwanted thoughts.

He sat down at the bar and patiently waited for service. The young man behind the counter was the same man Blaine had seen time and time again when he came in, but he never really thought anything of it, never really looked at him save to pay him for the drink.

His mind wandered as he thought about the stranger in front of him. The inn was most likely a family business that the man had inherited and continued to keep up. He was sure it was a much better source of income than his pathetic farming. He began to fantasize about how easy this man's life must be, always knowing about what is expected of him, always having things set up for him. An easy life, unlike Blaine's, a life he would trade his own for any day.

The man poured a drink out for Blaine, his usual, and placed it in front of him with a dull thud on the bar. The sound of glass meeting wood stirred Blaine, and, this time, he looked up, and his eyes briefly met those of the innkeeper. The man's eyes were a piercing blue, and they looked tired - but something else flashed in them, something Blaine couldn't quite put his finger on. But, before he could think anything more of it, the other man turned and walked away.

As he drank, Blaine mindlessly watched the man go about his business, and soon caught himself staring, eyes scanning the man's broad shoulders, down his thin but muscled torso, and then down to his ass which was firm and pleasantly round.

He shook his head and downed the rest of the mead. Great, he thought. Now he felt a hunger inside him that had been dormant for years. The innkeeper had a sort of nymph-like look to him, and Blaine was drawn to him in a way he couldn't explain. But he figured that as long as the man didn't know, it would be alright if Blaine indulged just a bit more while he finished his drink. So much for drowning this out, Blaine thought. But he was definitely drowning.

-A-

When Blaine set foot in the base, Santana had been more than pleased. If it was redemption he needed, he had found it, but he now had the encounter with the other assassin nagging at him. Santana would need to know everything.

"So he did show up again, huh?" Santana asked. She set down the goblet of wine she had been drinking and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Like clockwork. I was on my way out, and he came out of nowhere and knocked me to the ground. But I slashed him pretty good on his arm," Blaine explained. He contemplated the damage he had done as he took another bite of the apple in his hand, chewed, and swallowed it as Santana began to speak again.

"With enough luck, it was a good enough hit to finish him off," Santana said nonchalantly. She brushed off her lap with both hands and rose from the table. The dining quarters were cramped, but it was a comfortable enough place to discuss business matters.

"Maybe, but I don't know how much poison remained on my blade," Blaine said, although he was doubtful. He looked up at Santana who stood before him.

"Let's hope it was enough," She said as she turned on her heel and began walking toward the main hall. Blaine abandoned his seat and followed her out.

"I think you're ready for something a bit more complex. We just got our hands on a contract unlike any other we've had, and I know that you're my best. I'll need you on this job, Blaine. I hope you can finish this one without distractions, and that's why I'm hoping that other guy bit the dust," Santana said, stopping to pick up the parchment containing the assignment.

Santana handed Blaine the scroll and he looked it over, swallowing hard when he reached the name.

"This is - this is going to be quite a challenge. I'll need time to chart out how and when I can get in safely," Blaine responded.

"Take all the time you need. All the client cares about is that he dies, and I don't want to end up fucking this up and possibly losing you in the process," Santana said, crossing her arms.

"Alright. I'll get to work on this immediately." Blaine rolled the parchment back up and tucked it into his boot.

-A-

"Good to see you well and back again, Kurt," Noah greeted him as he entered the main room of the base.

"It's my pleasure," Kurt said, grinning.

"I hope you're ready for this one. I was a little worried about the contract we received recently, and I knew that I couldn't trust anyone with it except you. The person of interest is particularly high profile," Noah said, raising his eyebrows.

"Go on," Kurt urged.

"It's Duke William. I know that it's not going to be an easy feat, and you'll probably need time to plan the attack. Are you up for it?" Noah asked.

"Of course. Despite that last incident, I'm sure I'll be able to take care of this one without a problem. You have all the information I need?" Kurt asked as he stepped closer to Noah.

"Here it is," Noah said, handing Kurt the scroll. "It's pretty self-explanatory, and there's a map of the grounds and the castle included," He added.

"Someone is pretty serious about this then. Much of my homework has been done for me," Kurt mused as he looked over the materials.

"He must have crossed someone high up because this is one hell of a job," Noah said with a quiet laugh.

When the conversation ended, Kurt made his way to the storage room. He knew this would require a stakeout, so he gathered the supplies he needed and packed his satchel. He wasn't sure how long this would take, but he knew he'd be on the road for a while. The last thing he grabbed and strapped to his back was a bedroll. Everything else he would need - food, shelter - he would find along the way.

The moon was full, and he glanced at the map before striding off in the direction of his next job. He would get some distance behind him before he rested and began planning the next stage of his attack.

-A-

Several hours had passed, and the muscles in Kurt's legs began to burn. Now was the time to find shelter. Luckily, there was a nearby cave that looked to be an abandoned mine, and Kurt climbed the rickety steps up to the door that had been broken in pieces and partially rotted away from age and weather. He tore the beams aside and made his way into the main passage. He would make camp here for tonight. There was no need for light, so he didn't bother to build a fire. Instead, he simply laid out his bedroll before climbing into it only to pass out within minutes.

The sun rose the next morning, but the cave remained dimly lit. Kurt leaned his back up against the wall by the entrance, deep in thought about the contract. He was gazing out at the fields below him when he saw something move in his peripheral. But before he could react, a hand was gripping the front of his robes and another wrapped around his throat and forced him up against the wall of the cave.

"What the -" he uttered as his head and shoulders hit the hard rock. His vision blurred for a split second before refocusing on the man before him. The man's hooded face was further concealed by a mask that covered many of his features from his nose up, leaving only a shadow of his mouth visible.

"Don't speak, and don't try anything. I don't want your blood on my hands," Blaine said quietly as he held Kurt against the wall.

"But, how did you - " Kurt attempted to say but was quickly silenced as Blaine slammed his head into the stone again with only a little less force than before.

In his dizzy state, Kurt glanced down at the strong arms that held him there, and a wave of excitement flooded through him. Suddenly, he felt his body grow hot at the thought of those hands on his skin, gripping him and handling him in a way that was almost too much - he blinked hard as if erasing the thought.

Kurt closed his mouth tightly and raised his eyebrows at the other man. In this compromised position, he thought it best to keep silent. As much as he tried to fight it, Kurt's eyes roamed back to the man's lips. While he was irritated and a bit angry with himself about how the assassin had managed to sneak up on him, Kurt couldn't help but revel in the moment - the hand on his neck and the pressure of the hard, rock wall against his back. He squirmed a little as a chill ran up his spine and he fought back what was now happening in his pants due to these shameless thoughts.

"I mean it. I need you to listen and to listen carefully. First of all, don't think I haven't figured out that something suspicious is going on, and I'm sure you have too. It's not a coincidence that we keep ending up in the same place at the same time. I don't know exactly what's going on or what this client's motive is, but I'm not against working this out instead of spilling each other's blood." At that, Blaine loosened his grip on Kurt and let go of the front of his robes, allowing him to regain his posture. "Just answer me this: who are you after right now?" He let go.

"The Duke," Kurt answered flatly, rubbing his neck where the man's hand had been.

"Thought so. Well, what do you know, so am I," Blaine said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He stepped back, allowing Kurt to move away from the wall.

A laugh burst from Kurt's mouth, but he caught himself and quickly became serious again. He shot the other assassin a quizzical expression. "So, by 'working this out', do you mean you want _me_ to work with _you_?" he asked skeptically.

"I was thinking that since we're after the same thing, why don't we make this easier on ourselves?" Blaine asked.

"How am I supposed to trust you?! You tried to kill me," Kurt gasped, but he wouldn't admit just how close he had actually come to doing so. The memory of that uncomfortable night flitted through his mind, and the resentment boiled back up again.

"You aren't," he answered quietly. "But someone is playing the both of us, and all I can do is promise you that we both want this to end," Blaine concluded with all sincerity.

"Wait a minute," Kurt said, pausing for a moment to process. "Why do you trust me? I was about two seconds from slaughtering you without even hesitating, and you think I won't stab you in your sleep?"

"I don't know. I probably shouldn't trust you, but I have a gut feeling that I can," Blaine said. Sure, he was wary of the fact that this other assassin wasn't his ally, was just as adept at killing as he was, and probably had few reservations after the last encounter. Blaine probably deserved to be offed by this man, but he was willing to take this risk.

"Give me a moment," Kurt said, turning away. He began pacing, and then he came to a stop in front of Blaine again. "What do I get out of this? I don't exactly keep friends, and I sure as hell don't just do this for fun - well, don't get me wrong, this is one of my favorite pastimes. But I know what's expected of me, and I really do enjoy the rewards that come with it," Kurt said with an impish grin beneath his mask. _  
_

"Think about it, then. But you don't have much time. We could end this tonight, only one of us walks away, or we could team up, and we both get what we want," Blaine said.

Kurt stared into the other man's masked countenance. There wasn't much he could make out, but he was hanging onto every word, listening to the deep tone of his voice and inflections in his speech. This man was serious. And if Kurt were being honest, the proposal didn't sound like all that much of a bad idea. Although Kurt knew he could handle this on his own, he figured that a little help, especially from someone as skilled as this other man, wouldn't hurt.

Against his better judgment, Kurt let his guard down and acquiesced. "Alright," he said slowly, "but understand that if you try anything, anything at all, I'll have you strung up in the nearest tree. In pieces."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Blaine smirked. "Same goes for you - you lay a hand on me, and I'll cut it off. But I won't stop there."

Kurt chuckled at this. "Maybe you're not so bad," he said. "I think I might like you."

Blaine quirked an eyebrow at that last comment, but, relieved that the other man had chosen to cooperate, he focused his thoughts on the next step. "If we're going to be partners, let's not be complete strangers here," Blaine began. He held his hand out in front of him. "I'm Blaine."

"Kurt," he said, taking Blaine's hand in a brief and firm handshake. "That's all I'm telling you. Don't expect me to warm up to you any time soon. Or ever."

"That's fine by me. We have a job to do, and, quite frankly, I don't want to know who you are."

Blaine looked at Kurt again and smiled darkly, but only a glimpse of his shadowed mouth could be seen as the corners of his lips curled up.

-A-

The first few days were challenging: although it seemed like their agreement was intact and their plans would run smoothly, there was still a lack of trust between them, and Kurt slept lightly, jumping at every small sound, his knife under his pillow. Not much was exchanged between them besides details and information they would both need to execute the assassination successfully. They kept a safe distance from each other, being careful not to overstep any boundaries.

But as they spent the time together traveling and plotting, both became at ease in each other's presence. Conversation became more relaxed, and the tension in the atmosphere all but vanished. There was a sort of comfort building between the two, but they both agreed it was still best to keep their identities concealed.

After one particularly long day, nature inevitably called, and Blaine excused himself. He wandered into a patch of woods and walked for a decent distance to ensure he had privacy. After relieving himself on a tree, he looked around and, double checking that he was alone, he exhaled, closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to wander. His dick still in his hand, the image of the young innkeeper's ass surfaced in his mind while Sebastian's crude comments flitted around, and he had to hold back a groan. He was alone, he reminded himself, so he decided to give into his urges.

Kurt sat on a log studying the map of the castle and marking their points of entry. When he grew bored, he absentmindedly glanced up and looked over to see where Blaine had wandered off to, but he had disappeared into the nearby wooded area. The sun was beginning to set, and Kurt figured it might be a good time to locate firewood while there was still light, so he wandered into the same woods. Maybe he'd catch Blaine on his way out, he thought. But as he walked, something caught his eye, and he stood stock still until he focused on the dark form before him. He quickly recognized the man as Blaine, but that wasn't what his attention was fixed on.

He wasn't sure if he would regret this decision, but, for now, he wasn't upset about what his eyes happened upon. There he saw Blaine's half-exposed ass - and - Oh my god, Kurt thought, when he heard a faint moan escape Blaine's mouth. While he felt absolutely filthy watching, he couldn't take his eyes off of him as his mind raced with thoughts of what he was witnessing and the things he now wanted to do to this man.

Blaine could feel a presence nearby, heard a leaf crunch, and then rolled his eyes. "I'm not bladder shy, but what the fuck are you doing?" Blaine asked loudly without turning his head completely to face Kurt. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, and he thanked the heavens that he had just finished and hoped Kurt hadn't been there long. He quickly pulled his pants back up, hoping to play it off as nothing.

"Don't flatter yourself," Kurt scoffed, his cheeks reddening slightly from being caught. But he had felt himself grow achingly hard and was now doing everything in his power to will it away in order to avoid a very awkward situation. He turned away.

"Can't a man piss in peace?" Blaine asked, careful to keep his voice steady, as he finally turned around to face Kurt.

"I came in here to get some firewood. That's all. Can't say the same about you," Kurt said, glancing down at Blaine's groin with a smug look, "since I obviously can't rely on _you_ to take initiative, and I don't feel like freezing to death tonight." He crossed his arms and turned back to Blaine now that he had calmed down a bit. Now it was Blaine's turn to blush at this comment, but he wasn't sure if Kurt was suggesting what he thought he was.

"Yeah - you caught me. I guess I have to help out now, since your hinting isn't subtle. I'm not going to make you do all the work," he said, still playing oblivious, and then he bent over and picked up a suitable branch.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow and could hardly keep himself from quipping back at Blaine, but maybe Blaine really was clueless. He shook his head and proceeded to gather dried leaves and twigs for tinder which he stuffed into his satchel. Then he picked up a few more small logs and branches along with Blaine before they headed back to their original spot to set up camp for the night. Neither of them said much to each other the remainder of the night.

-A-

Three weeks in, both began to feel restless as they made camp in a small grove not far from the Duke's residence. Night had fallen, and Kurt built a fire for warmth and to ward off any animals that may be curious about how they might taste.

Blaine poked at a log in the fire with a stick to keep the oxygen flowing. A few sparks flew up into the air, and the embers burned brightly beneath the tall flames. He took the rabbit they had hunted and skinned earlier in the day and skewered the chunks of meat before roasting them in the fire. It had been a long day. His stomach grumbled and his mouth watered as he watched the meat darken as it cooked.

"Blaine," Kurt said quietly, stirring Blaine from his fixation on the food.

"Yes?" Blaine answered.

"We've spent these past few weeks together, and I've realized your strange aversion to this job," Kurt said.

"I don't have a problem with it - I think we're about ready to go through with it," Blaine said, a bit confused by Kurt's suggestion.

"No, no - I mean, I don't understand why you're an assassin. You don't seem to have the right personality," Kurt said.

Blaine was offended, but he sat in contemplation. How could he have figured that out? Blaine admitted to himself that Kurt had a point. He offered some of the now cooked meat to Kurt before deciding to respond.

"I guess you could say it's complicated. It wasn't something I chose." Blaine slid the last few chunks of meat off for himself and jabbed the sharpened stick into the dirt in front of him.

"I don't think anyone chooses this, but at least I can say that I find it fulfilling." Kurt popped the rabbit meat into his mouth.

"I've kind of just accepted it."

They sat eating in silence as the flames flickered before them. After Kurt chewed and swallowed his last bite, he shifted around, crossed his legs, and cleared his throat.

"I had to learn to survive. Someone took something from me - someone very important, and I vowed to punish the wicked, to get back at those who wronged me," he said. "A few years ago, I had to watch my father die by some bastard's merciless hands in my own home. I feel like people do things without cause, without reason, because humans are nothing but animals," Kurt explained.

"But these people - we take their lives without question. These are people we know nothing about, and we just - kill them," Blaine concluded quietly. He had swallowed his last bite and began tracing shapes in the dirt in front of him.

"What - are you serious? Where is this attitude coming from? This is justice, Blaine, if ever it did exist. These people we kill because they deserve it. Humans are the worst kind of vermin that crawl upon this god forsaken earth, and I feel like I'm doing everyone a favor by exterminating a few," Kurt scoffed.

Blaine stopped what he was doing and put the stick down. "Do you really feel that way?" he asked.

"I do."

"I've seen some corrupt things - and people -, but, for the most part, I still have faith in humanity. It's just that, usually, I don't trust myself," Blaine said, his hands curling into fists in frustration.

"I don't understand," Kurt began.

"My entry into the brotherhood wasn't anything glorious. There was no revenge or honor involved in the murder I committed. I didn't even mean to do it. My mind went blank, and the next thing I knew, he was laying there dead in a pool of his own blood - by _my_ hands. In all honestly, I don't like this, Kurt, but it feels like it was a destiny I couldn't escape," Blaine explained.

"I don't know if I believe in all that things-are-meant-to-be bullshit. We're all sinners, Blaine," Kurt said.

"You're right, but maybe we're the worst kind," Blaine said quietly. He turned away and lay back on his bedroll to gaze into the open sky. The display of stars against the inky, night sky glistened and shone with a burning energy that mesmerized Blaine as he looked on. Then the sound of Kurt's voice drew him back into the moment.

"I can't say I agree with you. You talk about life like it's something divine, something precious and meaningful. You seem like you'd just passively accept what's dealt to you without asking why. Well I don't live like that. I feel powerful. I'm in control, Blaine. Destiny is not something that is defined for me, it's something I create for myself," Kurt proclaimed.

"But aren't you acting as someone's puppet even as we speak? I mean - you take orders, you take life, and you do it blindly," Blaine said.

"If you are wise, you'll close that pretty little mouth of yours or change the subject," Kurt said, now agitated. "I'm nobody's puppet." He lay back on his own bedroll but closed his eyes tightly, shutting out the light from the fire and the stars. If ever there was a moment where Blaine was dangerously close to crossing the line, this was it, and Kurt was finished with this conversation.

"Fine. I get it. But, Kurt? You're not fooling me at all."

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep."

-A-

_A dark, blurry figure seemed to glide towards him where he lay supine on the ground. He tried to move, but he was anchored in place. Blaine looked on as the figure morphed into a thin-faced, handsome brunette. That grin. He saw that grin again - Sebastian. Then the figure bowed down and hovered over his body just above his hips. _

_"But I have to kill you. Don't you understand?" The man didn't respond but began stripping Blaine's pants from his body. "No. No, I can't be found out. I need to stay hidden." He began to feel anger surge through him mixed with lust as this man took his now exposed cock into his mouth. Blaine squirmed and fought. The thought of "this man has to die, he needs to die" and "I have a contract to fulfill" cycled through Blaine's brain as he began thrusting hard, violently fucking this man's face. But then everything went calm, and the figure seemed to morph again. Blaine felt warm, and his anger had faded away. He glanced down towards the figure and saw that familiar hooded face and the only thing visible - those piercing blue eyes..._

Blaine woke up with a start, sat up, and whipped his head around. There was Kurt. Still seemingly asleep nearby in his bedroll. A bit shaken from the dream, Blaine soon noticed that he was painfully hard. Well this is inconvenient, he thought. He lay back down, rolled over in his bedroll, and bit the side of his mouth in frustration. He looked over at the still, unconscious figure that was Kurt, reached down into his pants, wrapped his hand around his erection, and stroked himself until he came into his hand. Not long after he relieved his tension, he drifted back into an unconscious state.

-A-

The rain poured down outside over the fields and hills surrounding their latest shelter. Blaine had been waiting for Kurt who had gone out to hunt but had not returned before the rainfall began. Eventually, after the sun had set, he reappeared, albeit, empty-handed.

Kurt stood there at the mouth of the cave. Outside, the rain was still falling in a curtain, the moon was at his back, and the light cast his form into silhouette. Blaine looked up from his seat on the floor. Kurt's robes were dripping wet, and the sound of water droplets hitting stone echoed off the walls as they fell from his clothing.

"No luck? I'm sorry," Blaine said when he realized Kurt had brought nothing back.

"It could be worse. It's alright, though. We've still a little left over from the previous hunt," Kurt said, sounding a bit strung out.

"Don't worry about me. Eat what you need," Blaine said, noticing the weariness in Kurt's voice.

Kurt was taken aback by Blaine's offer. How selfless of him, he thought. But Kurt _was_ starving, so he rummaged through the supplies and pulled out the remainder of the deer meat they had salted and dried. He slowly began to chew on it as his mind wandered. He swallowed and turned his gaze on Blaine again.

"I don't know what it is, but I'm really growing fond of having you around," Kurt admitted as he made his way over to Blaine.

"The idea of me, at least," Blaine said sadly. They didn't really know each other, not really, and, despite how comfortable Blaine was becoming with Kurt and those other uncomfortable, lingering feelings he was having, in the end, he knew they were still complete strangers. Strangers who killed people for a living. How _charming_, he thought.

"There's something about how you talk about people as if they matter, but then you still go and gut them like pigs. It makes me - " Kurt began, but he shook his head. No, he would have to forget about how he was feeling right now. This wasn't the right time.

"What?" Blaine asked, noticing the way Kurt seemed to be fighting himself.

"Never mind," Kurt said. They sat in silence as the rain continued to cascade over the hills outside. As the silence remained, a tension grew between them, but it was different than before. Blaine felt heat spread throughout his body as he realized the proximity between himself and Kurt.

"Listen. I haven't had companionship in a long time," Blaine said, breaking the silence. He wasn't sure what impelled him to say this, but it felt necessary in this moment. When Kurt didn't respond right away, Blaine started to regret his words.

Then Kurt sighed heavily. "Neither have I," he said. "You know - this whole time we've been plotting, I've been distracted by something, and I can't shake it," Kurt bit his lip, a gesture, if seen, that would have given him away completely.

"Oh, really? What can't you get off of your mind?" Blaine asked, simply playing along, but he was certain he knew where this was heading. All those times he caught himself admiring the other assassin, longing for just a touch, maybe, or to feel breath on his skin - anything to feel alive when he was constantly surrounded by death - it must not have gone unnoticed. He swallowed hard.

"You," Kurt said, moving in closer to Blaine.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine gazed at the dark form in front of him that was Kurt and wondered just how his eyes looked in this moment, what they might be saying to him. Then his eyes roamed up and down Kurt's shaking frame.

"Kurt, you're shivering," Blaine said.

"I'm fine," Kurt lied, as he wrapped his arms around himself.

But Blaine rose from his seat on the ground and reached a hand out, hesitating for a moment, and placed it on Kurt's shoulder. At the touch, Kurt let out a shuddering breath he felt like he had been holding for too long now.

"Blaine. I can't take it any longer." Kurt gently pulled down the mask concealing the bottom half of his face. Suddenly, in the darkness of the cave, Blaine felt Kurt's body shift closer to his own. Then, the hot sensation of the other man's breath on his neck. "I've been craving another warm body for ages, and yours is - I can't think straight anymore." Kurt nearly lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Blaine, and then brought their mouths together in a desperate manner.

Blaine was startled at first but soon relaxed into it. This was okay, he thought. This was more than okay. As wrong as it was, it felt right, it felt good. Then Blaine slipped his hands beneath Kurt's hood and it slid down as he grabbed his face to kiss him back. Kurt allowed his hands to roam, and a heat rushed through Blaine's body as the sensation of the other man's touches became increasingly intense.

"This - yes," Blaine grunted as he pushed Kurt up against the wall of the cavern. He planted kisses down Kurt's neck, stopping by his shoulder to suck on a spot of skin, not ceasing until he could taste blood in his mouth. Kurt let out a moan as Blaine disconnected his mouth from the now darkly bruised skin. He dug his fingers into the back of Kurt's robes and pushed his body flush up against Kurt's.

"Mm - you keep doing that, and I'll have to fuck you right here, right now," Kurt growled as he gripped tightly onto Blaine's shoulders.

"You wouldn't believe how good that offer sounds," Blaine managed to utter as he began peeling Kurt's wet robes from his body. He allowed his mouth to explore every exposed inch of Kurt's body, feeling with his lips, tracing each groove and muscle with his hands and fingers. When he reached Kurt's one arm, he paused as his lips dragged across a large area where the skin was raised. Blaine's stomach lurched for a second as he ran his fingers gently over the long scar, and he felt a pang of guilt shoot through him. He returned his lips to Kurt's skin and resumed their travel down his body.

Although the wound was long past healed and caused him no pain, Kurt flinched at the touch. Blaine had done that, had caused him to hurt like that. Now Blaine was before him with his walls torn down and with all the trust in the world for Kurt in this vulnerable state.

Then Blaine's hands moved desperately from the curve of Kurt's lower back until he was running them over the curve of his ass. He let his mouth trail down Kurt's toned chest, abdomen, until they found his hip bones. He licked along the grooves between and over the firm muscles of Kurt's abdomen, tasting the rainwater mixed with the salt of his sweat. Their mouths rejoined for a moment before Kurt pulled away.

"I wasn't offering. I'm not giving you a choice," Kurt said forcefully. Kurt rolled his hips forward and pushed down Blaine's hood before running his hands through his hair. He grabbed at his curls, twisting them in his fingers, before smashing their mouths together again. At that, Blaine moaned into Kurt's mouth as he roughly pressed their lips together with more urgency, open mouthed and wet, and pushed his tongue inside.

Their hands traveled up and down each other's body in the darkness. There was no need to see. Everything was heat and skin and sweat and friction - touch and feeling alone. Kurt wrapped his fingers around Blaine's toned bicep and squeezed before biting into his shoulder. Blaine let out a loud groan in response.

"I hate you so much - what you did to me," Kurt said against Blaine's skin as he pressed his erection up against his thigh.

"I'm terrible - so unfair," Blaine groaned as he ran his tongue along Kurt's jaw. He pushed his hips forward, bringing his own growing erection to grind against Kurt.

"You're just a convenient fuck. And, God, is this convenient," Kurt said. He tugged on Blaine's robes and roughly tore them from his body.

Then he pushed Blaine down onto the hard ground, and his knees connected with the stone with a thud followed by a searing pain. Blaine clenched his jaw as Kurt grabbed his shoulders and began nipping at bits of skin, trailing down his back until he was by his ass. Kurt placed his lips gently onto Blaine's skin before biting hard into his tender flesh.

Blaine let out a strangled yell in surprise. The pain shot through his nervous system before turning into a dull throb of pleasure. With a new wave of adrenaline pumping through his system, Blaine twisted his body around beneath Kurt, wrapped his arms around his broad torso, and dug his fingernails into Kurt's back between his shoulder blades.

The abuse and the pain shouldn't turn him on this much, Blaine thought, but he was harder than he had ever been before, and in shadow, he saw Kurt hovering above him, erect and hungry. He could only imagine the lust he'd see in those eyes, how swollen Kurt's lips must be.

Kurt pushed his body up against Blaine's, and Blaine felt Kurt's hard cock, slick with precum, slide roughly against his abdomen. Blaine dug his fingernails even deeper into Kurt's flesh until he felt the skin break. Kurt threw his head back and let out a loud moan as the pain shot through him.

"You feel so good," Blaine whimpered. He reached down between them now and ran his fingers up Kurt's long, hard length before gripping it tightly in his fist. Kurt threw his head back again and bit his lip as he reveled in Blaine's strength and the roughness of his skin.

"I'll make it hurt then," Kurt said as he fucked into Blaine's fist. Then he reached over and grabbed the belt used to hold his satchel to his body from among his discarded robes and shoved Blaine back onto the ground with the other hand. Blaine's head hit the stone, and he let it fall to the side as it throbbed. Then he felt something lightly touch his face, and the faint scent of leather hit his nose.

"I'm going to tie you up," Kurt breathed by his ear. A shiver traveled down Blaine's spine, and he felt the perspiration on his skin cooling in the space between them. Then Kurt snapped the leather strap against his shoulder, and Blaine's body jerked upwards out of reflex. "You're all mine now," Kurt continued. "Unarmed - right where I want you." He pulled Blaine's arms up above his head and wrapped the belt around his wrists, pulling it tight as the edges dug into Blaine's skin. Blaine's pulse quickened with this new sense of danger and vulnerability.

Kurt traced a finger around Blaine's entrance causing Blaine to clench up in anticipation. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked lightly on them until they were wet with saliva. He moved his hand back to Blaine's ass, but, this time, he pushed a finger through the tight ring of muscle. It wasn't long until he was pushing a second and a third into Blaine as he writhed on the ground, unable to use his hands to grab onto and pull Kurt's hair which he so desperately wanted to do.

"You made a mistake when you tainted my perfect flesh with your silly knife," Kurt growled lasciviously. "Now you're going to know the consequence for your carelessness."

"Punish me - fuck me so hard I - . Kurt - I deserve it," Blaine cried out. With that, Kurt responded with a moan, grabbed Blaine's shoulders for balance, lined himself up, and pushed himself inside. It was raw, and Blaine felt the burn of the friction between them as Kurt proceeded to thrust harder and deeper now into him. Blaine bit down hard on his tongue until he tasted blood in his mouth. He wrapped his legs around Kurt, pulling him in closer, more tightly against his body as Kurt sank deeper into Blaine.

"You do. You deserve all of this," Kurt groaned. He nearly pulled out and then thrusted again, hard, into Blaine as his hips slammed up against him.

"All of it - I want it. I need it," Blaine whined through the blood filling his mouth as Kurt pushed into Blaine with so much force that Blaine felt like an explosion went off inside him, traveling up his spine and making his brain go numb. One more thrust and Kurt came hard inside of Blaine, still gripping his shoulders tightly.

Kurt pulled out but lay still with all of his weight pressed upon Blaine's body as he came down from his orgasm. Blaine's still hard cock was pressed between their bodies and was leaking, begging for just a little stimulation to send him over the edge. Kurt lifted himself back up on his hands and knees and inched his way down, bringing his face to Blaine's groin.

Kurt wrapped his lips around Blaine's cock and lowered his head, taking all of him into his mouth. He sucked hard as he bobbed his head up and down, and, within seconds, Blaine was coming into Kurt's mouth. Kurt swallowed it down and pulled off with a grin.

He untied Blaine's wrists, rolled over and off of him, and they both lay there completely wrecked as their breathing struggled to regulate itself. But it wasn't long before Kurt gathered up his robes and began pulling them back on, making sure to pull his mask back over his mouth and nose. The sun would rise within hours, and he couldn't be careless, lest the light would betray him. He turned away from Blaine who soon followed suit and dressed himself, concealing every last inch as before.

They sat there, just mere feet apart, backs turned to each other in silence. Blaine was spent and sore, but the pain made him feel alive, was something he didn't want to fade. His wrists burned slightly from where the leather had been wrapped tightly against them, every inch of flesh that Kurt had sank his teeth into sent pricks of pain through his body, and the taste of Kurt still lingered on his tongue.

Kurt's skin was stinging where Blaine's fingernails had broken through, and he closed his eyes as he held onto the moment, the ghost of Blaine's touch still enveloping his body.

"Kurt," Blaine finally broke the silence. He shifted around until he was now facing Kurt whose back was still turned on him. But the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat, so he sighed instead and remained silent.

"You don't need to say anything," Kurt spoke up. Then he slowly turned to face Blaine. As he looked on at the dark form before him, he felt like he had just fucked a phantom. All Blaine was to him was a name, a body, and a mouth. "Glad we could work out our differences," he joked in attempt to ease his own tension.

"Hm," Blaine hummed. "I never - thank you."

"There you go being a gentleman," Kurt laughed. "Don't."

Blaine cocked his head to the side for a moment as he wondered what Kurt was feeling, but the silence was enough to inform him.

"I'm exhausted. We'll talk in the morning," Kurt concluded before grabbing his bedroll, setting it a few feet away from Blaine, and climbing inside. There was nothing more to be said.

They went to sleep that night laying a few feet off from each other.

-A-

A cool breeze teased Blaine's robes as he stepped over fallen branches, patches of moss carpet, and various other debris that coated the damp and muddy forest floor until he finally found the source of water he had been seeking. His body didn't feel like his own anymore as he stripped down to bathe. Kurt's fingers had dug into Blaine's flesh and left marks that soon turned into bruises around his shoulders, chest, and collar bone. Blaine ran his fingers over the marks and closed his eyes as he imagined the past night.

He shivered as he entered the cool water and sent ripples across the surface. Then he crouched down and plunged his head and body beneath the water, dousing every inch the other man touched. It felt like a renewal, like a cleansing of more than just his body. As he resurfaced and climbed out to dry and dress himself, Blaine felt something bubbling up within himself. He took a deep breath and then exhaled, his hot breath danced before him as it mixed with the cool, dawn air. His stomach grumbled, but he didn't feel hungry, and when he opened his mouth again, the only word that begged to leave his lips was "Kurt". And in that moment, Blaine knew that he was absolutely fucked.

-A-

"So, we agree that the best point of entry is the sewer?" Kurt asked.

"Yes. It gives us the best chance of getting past guards and into the Duke's chambers," Blaine answered.

"But - there's still something missing. He's going to be heavily guarded, and as far as I can tell, we're going to need to be much more creative than usual," Kurt expressed his concern. The Blaine suddenly had an idea that didn't seem all too farfetched.

"What if we attack when he's awake?" he asked.

"Are you insane?!" Kurt blurted out.

"No, no - hear me out. We've been watching the shifts of the guards and their posts, but I also noticed the coming and going of the servants. They also all happen to be young men," he explained.

"That's convenient. I think I understand now...we could easily take one out and get you in in disguise. They won't suspect anything - my little wolf in sheep's clothing," Kurt mused. "But then there's still the challenge of actually getting to and killing the Duke. Wait a minute - Blaine, there's something I need to ask you about," Kurt said slowly.

"What is it?"

"The poison you put on your blade...do you always carry some around with you?"

Blaine swallowed. "Um, yes. I do," he said reaching into his bag to pull out a small, glass bottle. "I generally don't like my kills to take very long, so I've relied on this for a while now."

"That stuff is strong," Kurt said, accompanied by an uncomfortable silence. "I assume we could use it to poison meat and serve it to the Duke."

"I don't see why that wouldn't work. That way I would only need to access the kitchens and the dining quarters," Blaine thought aloud.

"Exactly. It's much less risky and almost foolproof. Do you think you're ready for this?" Kurt asked.

"We've been planning this forever, it seems. I don't think I could be any more prepared," Blaine replied.

"Good. We're completing this contract tonight."

-A-

Blaine waded through the stream that ran behind the Duke's residence and connected to the sewer that opened up into the bowels of the castle. Kurt was following close behind, keeping alert to ensure they remained undetected. When they reached the sewer grate, Blaine grabbed onto the metal bars and pulled, but it didn't budge.

"It's locked. Damn it," Blaine swore through his teeth. Just as he was about to search for a lockpick, Kurt interrupted him.

"Move aside," Kurt said as he rummaged through his satchel and retrieved a thin piece of metal that somewhat resembled a lockpick but was more elaborate in appearance.

"Is that a skeleton key?" Blaine asked, amazed and impressed.

"Of course. What do you take me for?"

"You're just full of secrets, aren't you?" Blaine smiled fondly at Kurt.

Kurt didn't respond, but he grinned beneath his mask and proceeded to insert the instrument into the lock on the grate. He maneuvered it around until he heard the familiar pop of the lock, and then he pushed the grate open. It creaked slightly on its rusted hinges as it swung forward, and they crept silently inside.

It was dark and dank, but they made their way past the rats and the mold, down a few winding passageways until they found a wooden door under which they could see light flooding through. Kurt slowly pushed the door open just enough to get a look around the other side.

"It's a dungeon," he hissed. "But, luckily, I don't see any guards on post."

"How are we going to find one of the servants?" Blaine asked, but, just then they heard a door open and the echoing of footsteps coming from the other side of the door. Kurt peeked into the room again.

"Well, well. There's one right there bringing that single poor imprisoned sap crumbs, I'm sure," Kurt whispered.

"What are we waiting for then?" Blaine pushed the door open and walked softly towards what appeared to be the guard's table. He ducked down and waited until the servant came back towards the entrance. As soon as he was within proximity, he leaped out and tackled the man to the ground. "Sorry," he whispered as he held the man's arms behind his back with one hand and covered his mouth with the other.

Once the man was down on the ground, Kurt rushed to gag him before shoving him into one of the open cells. There, they stripped him down to his underclothes, Kurt bound the man's arms and legs, and Blaine took the servant's rags and held them up to examine them.

"I'll step out now," Kurt said after he was finished tying the last knot. "I'll wait just beyond the door here. Good luck," He patted Blaine on the shoulder and then turned to disappear back into the sewer. The pressure was all on Blaine now.

Blaine changed into the rags and stowed away his own robes. There was no time for wasting or room for error, so Blaine made his way up the steps that led to the main level of the castle. He kept his head bowed the entire time as he made his way past a few other servants and into what appeared to be the larder. He knew he must be close to the kitchens then, and he followed the other servants on their way out with bundles of food and supplies cradled in their arms.

As they approached the next room, he could already smell food cooking. Perfect timing, he thought. Now all he had to do was inconspicuously pour the bottle of poison into the dish being served to the Duke. But, which one was it? It wasn't in the plan to kill anyone else, something that was generally frowned upon and against the rules of the brotherhood.

"You there. Quickly, take this up. The Duke is impatient tonight," said a voice as its owner prodded Blaine with a wooden spoon before shoving a pitcher of wine into his hands.

"Yes, sir," he said, avoiding eye contact, and then hastily made his way out of the room. This wasn't exactly the plan, but he could improvise. When he turned the corner, he pulled out the bottle, uncorked it, and poured its contents into the pitcher.

"That should do it," he said quietly to himself as he stowed the nearly empty bottle again on his person. This was almost too easy, he thought. Now the most difficult part was ensuring that he poured the wine into the goblet in front of the correct person, but he assumed that it wouldn't be that hard to tell who was who.

He rushed down the corridor towards the dining hall in tow of the other servants, and when he passed a few guards on the way, he nearly faltered but was careful to keep his head down and continued on. Upon arrival, Blaine turned toward the door, and pushed his way through.

The hall was brightly lit, and there were about a dozen people seated around an extravagant looking table dressed with silver goblets and dishes and candelabras encrusted with gemstones. He felt himself begin to perspire, but he moved forward toward the Duke and his guests, walking along the outer limits of the room as the other servants were. When he reached the man seated at the head of the table, he tipped the pitcher and poured the wine out into the goblet, careful not to make eye contact, and then bowed before turning back towards the wall. As he looked on, he backed up slowly, inched his way toward the wall by the door, and stood nearby another who had been on hand to serve wine as it was needed.

The Duke took the first bite of his dinner, and Blaine watched in anticipation as he chewed and swallowed. Then he took a sip of his wine. Duke William carried on his conversation with a small, doe-eyed woman with auburn hair who was seated on the right side of the table nearby, but he showed no signs of the poison's effect. He took another bite of his meal.

Blaine became anxious as William threw his head back and laughed at a comment from one of the guests. Come on, he thought. Something had to happen soon before any of the guests could beckon him for a refill. But, then, all at once, the Duke appeared to be choking, he gripped his chest, and his eyes shot open wide. William let out a resonant, pained groan before falling face forward with a clang and a thud into his dinner. He knocked over his goblet in the process, the remaining wine spilled out and trickled over the table, and his silverware clattered to the floor.

"Oh my god!" the woman shrieked shrilly in her mousy voice. Then she grabbed William, rolled him over, and shook him as if he might wake up but to no avail.

And in all of the commotion, chaos, and shrieking that immediately ensued, Blaine slipped back out into the corridor, stowed the pitcher of wine in a nook in the wall, and swiftly ran back toward the dungeons. He had even less time now before someone was sent to search the castle for anything amiss, so he stripped out of the servant's garb, grabbed his own robes, and quickly pulled them on. He would have to leave the servant bound and gagged. Blaine pulled open the door to the sewer only to be met with a wide-eyed, anxious Kurt.

"I'm guessing he's dead," Kurt said. "I could hear the screams all the way down here. Let's get the fuck out of here before we end up like that guy."

They took off back out the way they came, and, when they reached the sewer grate, they scanned the grounds to make sure they were clear before wading back across the stream and bounding off towards their most recent camp. The adrenaline rush from the kill fueled them the entire way back.

-A-

They arrived at the camp, both breathless but exhilarated. They felt like young children who had been outdoors playing a chasing game, and when they slowed down to stop, they turned to each other with large grins. Kurt laughed boisterously as Blaine joined in, laying his hand on Kurt's arm in the process.

"That was excellent, I mean, you were great back there." Kurt paused for a moment as he caught his breath. He looked on at Blaine and was suddenly hit by the reality that their time was up. "It has been an honor to work with you," Kurt said as he reached out to firmly pat Blaine's shoulder.

The mere contact of Kurt's heavy hand on his shoulder made Blaine want to simultaneously wrap Kurt up and kiss him hard on his mouth until he was completely lost inside it all and recoil and run as far away as possible.

"I'm just glad you gave me a chance," Blaine replied. It was all he could say.

"I'm glad I took the risk. It was something that had to be done," Kurt said. "But it's over now."

He hurriedly gathered his things together and strapped them to himself as he tried his best not to look at Blaine because, although he wasn't sure he quite understood _why_, he was dreading what would inevitably come next. And, although Kurt already had the entirety of his few belongings securely in his possession, his eyes roamed back and forth as if searching...for words? For an answer? He shifted his weight from foot to foot for a moment as if unsure of whether he intended to turn back, stay planted, or continue forward. Put one foot in front of the other.

"I guess this is goodbye then," Blaine said. The words that left his mouth were hollow and emotionless. Now was the time to turn off and shut out. Maybe the risk they had taken had been too great, and, in this moment, Blaine was grateful for the mask he wore; without it, he was afraid that all of his secrets might escape and betray him, and he would be left with his guts spilling out and completely at the mercy of something, a terrible force he spent much of his life pretending didn't exist. It was a matter of self-preservation just like feeding himself to keep alive for one day more.

"For now. Our paths may cross again. Considering our luck, it could happen a lot sooner than we'd expect, or, it may never happen again," Kurt said with a note of finality. And, because it had to be done, he concluded, "But promise you won't come looking for me." After the words passed his lips and died in the air between them, Kurt felt like he was about to leave something valuable behind, a possession of his that was irreplaceable. Perhaps that was the meaning of his searching, but it was a futile search that would turn up nothing as long as he remained in denial of what lay directly before him.

"I promise. Goodbye...Kurt," he said. The name feebly left his mouth and was lost before it reached its intended party because Kurt had already turned around and was racing off into the distance. Blaine tried his best not to follow his movement, but his eyes stayed locked on Kurt until he was only a speck on the horizon. And then - nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine was no stranger to farewell; he had had his fair share of experience with saying goodbye, often long before he could ever be prepared. But for some reason having to say goodbye to Kurt left him inexplicably perplexed.

It felt like a really hard fall, one that knocks a person breathless, leaves him screaming but unable to make a sound.

Then it felt like a phantom limb, one that hijacks the nervous system, but then the reality of its absence hits like a punch to the chest.

And then it felt like a damaged heart, too weak to pump vital fluids, too sad to even care.

Blaine was distracted. Conflicted, even. He stared blankly at a sconce on the wall as the flames gradually burned spots into his retinas. His face was contorted in an expression somewhere between a scowl and one of a child lost among a sea of strangers with no sense of which direction was home.

Living a life devoid of love - and he wondered if he could even define it if he had to. And, yet, there was something to be said about the way they trusted. He might as well have laid down completely exposed and belly up in the center of a pack of wolves, but what he thought was a wolf turned out to be something else. His pulse still raced as the blood rushed through his body, and his body remained unscathed. But his heart...Blaine toyed around with the idea of fate as he began fiddling with a coin in his hand.

He knew the encounter was more than chance or coincidence, and it nagged at him for days as he spun scenarios every which way in his head in attempt to make sense of it all. Then Blaine wondered what even was Kurt? Just an idea. A figment of his imagination. No - he was very real. The touch...

How could he be so fixated on someone he doesn't know, an anonymous enigma? He fucked some tall, dark, mysterious stranger, and now he was in over his head.

His headache wouldn't cease. His internal turmoil was evident on his face.

"Blaine? Blaine, are you alright? You've been really out of it," Santana said, looking up from where she had been kneeling to lace up one of her boots. She cocked her head to the side and placed her hands on her hips. He was so lost within himself that he had almost forgotten why he was standing there in the main room of the base.

"I'm okay - Santana, can I ask you something?" Blaine questioned hesitantly.

"You seem to be doing a good job of it already. Go on."

"Do you know the origins of these contracts?" Blaine asked. He wasn't sure what he would find out or if he'd find out anything at all, but, although she intimidated him greatly, he had an inkling that she knew something.

"Is this about the competition? I only know what I'm told." She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"That was extremely vague," Blaine retorted dryly.

"There are some things that are better left unknown," Santana answered with an equal amount of bite.

"But I feel like I'm in the dark all the time, and I'm not sure how much longer I can go on like this," Blaine very nearly whined as he felt his throat begin to tighten out of anger and frustration.

"Blaine, did - did something happen? You're acting a bit odd lately," she asked after realizing that something was driving Blaine to act out like this. Then Santana's eyes widened. "Wait a minute - that other assassin, did you guys -?" She gestured with both hands in front of her, almost bringing her fingertips together.

"'There are some things that are better left unknown'...right?" he mocked. Santana rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips again.

"Fuck, Blaine. What is going on with you? I need to know because I can't have you going out on jobs if you aren't mentally in it," she scoffed.

"I'm not sure I know myself, Santana. That other assassin is still alive, and I don't think I could ever bring myself to kill him," Blaine responded, staring intently into Santana's eyes, hands balled up into fists at his sides.

"But you may not have a choice," Santana said quietly.

"Do you want me to be completely honest with you? Fuck having a choice! Fuck all of this right now! Something did happen to me, and I'm not sure it's something I can ever recover from - or something I want to recover from. I'm tired, Santana. This was never the life I wanted to live. I still believe that - well, I'm sick of drifting through life as a transient, meaningless shell of a person. But here I am, and I'm not happy," Blaine concluded.

"You won't walk away from us - you can't," Santana gasped, now thoroughly fed up with Blaine.

"You're right. I'm not walking away from this, but there's something I have to find out for myself. I'm going to put an end to all of this. I refuse to be a pawn in someone's sick game," he spat.

"Do what you have to do, but, Blaine, know that you've sworn yourself to this life, you're locked in until death. It's a fate you can't escape," Santana said with a scowl.

"There has to be more than just fighting to keep myself alive, more than feeling like an empty vessel, the walking dead. Because I might as well be dead."

"Well as soon as you're done being melodramatic, I have another contract for you," Santana said as she calmed down a bit and turned away from Blaine, letting her arms drop to her sides now.

"Great. What is it? The emperor?" Blaine sassed, unamused.

"You're hilarious. Not even close. Actually, it's some nobody, an innkeeper I believe. He must have done something - I suppose everyone has their secrets," she shot behind her as she walked over to have a seat at the table.

"An innkeeper -? That just seems like a joke. Just hand it over, and I'll be done with it tonight," Blaine urged as he made his way over to the table, placed his palms flat on its surface, and leaned in to face Santana. He always felt like she was turning her back on him, and having to chase after her for answers was another reason he was at the end of his rope with her. But, still, he wouldn't dare get too cross with her.

"Oh, getting feisty I see. I thought you were through with the killing, but you seem rather anxious," she said as she looked down at her fingernails, now acting disinterested and dismissive.

"Yes, in a sense, but I have unfinished business to attend to before I'm through," Blaine said flatly.

"Here. Make me proud again. You've been great, and I hope that whatever crawled up your ass you get out of your system sooner than later because I don't think I can deal with you being all - _emotional_," Santana quipped as she pulled out the parchment with the assignment.

Blaine rolled his eyes and snatched it from out of her grasp before taking his leave.

-A-

Kurt repeatedly tapped the tip of the arrow with his finger as he absentmindedly tested his pain threshold. The small, sharp pricks to his finger with each contact made him both forget and remember all too vividly just why he was standing in the base of his brotherhood before Noah with an aching feeling in his stomach that wouldn't cease and a look of deep sorrow in his eyes.

Kurt was afraid he was going soft. That midnight encounter in that cave was nothing he would have ever imagined. It was something he could never forget. But it was still all smoke in his head, nothing but sensory memory - touch and sound. The way his whole body burned for this man. And not like it had before - before it was anger, hatred even, but now he felt sick, an emptiness within him even larger than before.

He tapped the tip of the arrow again, only a little too hard, and then quickly withdrew his hand with a hiss, shook it in the air in front of him, and then inserted his now bleeding finger into his mouth to suck on the broken flesh. He slid the arrow back into his quiver.

"Hummel," Noah began. "That was truly an excellent job you did back there at the Duke's. The execution was flawless, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something you aren't telling me," he said.

"I'm proud of that job. It was clean. There were no unnecessary casualties, and it went rather smoothly," Kurt answered, now pinching the cut with his other hand.

"But clean isn't your style. That's why I've been thinking," Noah said casually, but Kurt could tell he was on to him.

"I'm not going to lie to you. It wasn't all me back there. I had help," he replied.

"Don't think I hadn't figured that out. I could see it in your eyes, Kurt. Something's changed." Kurt looked up and saw that Noah appeared genuinely concerned.

"I'm no different if that's what you mean. I did what you asked. I didn't kill the other assassin, but I didn't find out what you wanted to know either. No one knows why we keep running into each other. I'm beginning to think that maybe - no, never mind," Kurt said, shaking his head.

"If you think I know anything, then think again. You can trust me," Noah insisted.

"Trust - that's an interesting concept." Kurt paused and began to pace. "Do you ever think about how well you actually know a person? I mean, maybe they aren't who they say they are." He turned and stopped in front of Noah again. "We're all living these secret lives, aren't we? How am I supposed to know what's true and what's not?"

"Kurt, you're becoming philosophical all of the sudden? What's going on? You can tell me."

Kurt took a deep breath. "I had a very desperate moment while on that contract. I allowed myself to be vulnerable. I put my faith in another person, and things - well, things happened. I don't even think I feel guilty about it, and it felt - god, it felt good," Kurt said with a sigh.

"Are you trying to tell me you have feelings for this stranger - the same man who nearly killed you?" Noah asked, now completely intrigued.

"If by feelings you mean how great it felt to take control of another man, have my way with him, and feel the greatest pleasure I've ever felt, then yes, I have a lot of feelings. But what I feel most strongly about is the way he let me do it," Kurt said.

"You're not trying to hide anything at all, are you," Noah said with a smirk.

"Not this time. I've been hiding all my life. Maybe it's time that I let myself feel, Noah." Now Kurt looked defeated.

"I definitely wasn't expecting this from you. You're the best I know in the business, and I hope you're not second guessing. There's no place for that here."

"Oh, no, not at all. I'm very much interested in remaining here, with doing all of this. Like I've said, I haven't changed," Kurt assured him.

"Good to hear. This might be a good time to give you your next contract, since we didn't come here tonight to gossip," Noah replied.

"How sweet," Kurt jested.

"Don't pretend you don't know why I'm concerned. But, anyway - it's something simple, I think. Some lonely, poor farmer in a nearby village. It seems like an odd request, but I'm sure the client has their reasons," Noah explained as he lifted the scroll from the table and handed it over to Kurt. Kurt unrolled the parchment and read through it.

"Alright. No significant wealth or social standing? That's a little unusual. This seems way too easy. I'll be on my way now, and I'll probably see you before the sun rises again," Kurt said, habitually stowing the new contract in his bag.

"There's the Kurt I know," Noah said with another smirk.

-A-

Kurt couldn't have been more wrong about this contract. When he climbed in through the window of the shack that night, the farmer was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was out of town. This was just bad luck, he thought. He'd have to try again the following night.

-A-

Blaine crept around the back entrance of the inn, and carefully picked the lock. He held his breath as he approached the door of the bedroom, but when he opened it, he was disappointed to find an empty bed.

-A-

On another night, knife drawn, Kurt stalked around the farm hoping he might run into the man unguarded and possibly at work in the stable. But after finding the grounds completely vacant, he entered the small dwelling again only to find much of the same. Nothing.

-A-

After hiding out and waiting longer than he had on previous occasions to attack, Blaine made his way through the window this time only to be met with yet another empty bed and another failed attempt. For the first time in his experience, he was becoming testy and frustrated with himself for not being able to secure a kill.

-A-

This pursuit went on for several nights, and Kurt soon became suspicious. Where was this elusive man? It was someone he had seen before on occasion at his own bar, a neighbor, and that man was almost always in town. Could he possibly be aware of the situation? No, that was impossible, he thought. He would just have to keep checking up and hoping that one of these nights would be more fortunate.

Then one evening, the farmer entered the inn, and Kurt's heart began pounding in his chest. He knew he would show up eventually, but how could he off him? Could he possibly take a page out of Blaine's book and poison his drink without anyone noticing? No, that was foolish, and he wasn't properly equipped.

Blaine took a seat at the bar and looked over at the innkeeper. He had felt his eyes on him from the moment he walked in. Did he know? When their eyes met, Blaine swallowed hard. There was no way he could take out this man in front of all these people. But he would keep a close eye on him.

"I'll have the usual," Blaine said.

Kurt grabbed a glass and began filling it without thinking. Then he handed it over with a nod of the head.

"Thank you," Blaine responded, returning the nod.

Kurt turned around and immediately something hit him. That voice, he knew it from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it. He turned back around to look into the farmer's eyes again. There was nothing he could gather.

"Love, I'm gonna need another one - or five," slurred the town drunk from the other end of the bar.

"I'll do you a favor and give you the whole bottle," Kurt said, disgusted.

"Why - thank you. The world can be a wonderful place," he said before falling off his stool. Kurt would have laughed, but it was actually pathetic. He was one of those people whom nature would finish off before he ever had to.

Blaine watched the interaction, but he wasn't really paying much attention to what was being said because something else caught his attention, a rather large scar on the innkeeper's forearm. No. That was impossible. How many strange coincidences had he endured these last few months? This one topped them all. Then it cut through his consciousness like a bell, and everything became clear. Those eyes. He knew them all too well. Kurt.

With his new revelation, Blaine couldn't help himself from glancing up again to fully admire the man who was no longer a mystery, and a sad smile tugged at his lips. He was stunning.

If this was really happening, if this was Kurt, then there was going to be a problem. He wouldn't be able to go through with this. He wondered if Kurt had figured it out yet, or if he had the same reservations. Now was the time to be afraid. He stared at the drink in front of him and it was suddenly unappealing.

He felt sick and high-tailed it out of the inn.

Kurt jerked his head up at the sudden movement and watched the farmer leave, his unfinished drink still atop the bar. This was his chance. He would have to make his move quickly before the man disappeared again.

-A-

That night, Blaine lay awake in his bed, his eyes and ears attuned to every tiny scratch on the floorboards, knock on wood siding, and crackling of twigs outside. He sat up when he saw a shadow flit across his wall and he quickly grabbed his dagger from under the pillow. He lay back down as he watched and waited.

The door creaked open, and a hooded figure entered soundlessly. Blaine lay dead still, feigning sleep until he felt the other man looming over him. Then a hand roughly covered his mouth, and, before he could even take a swing, the other man was speaking.

"Don't say anything - not that I'm giving you a choice. I'll let go of you if you promise that you'll listen to what I have to say," Kurt said. Blaine nodded. "Good. I'm not going to kill you."

"What -?"

"I need you to listen. I meant it. Up until this evening, I had no idea who you were, but now I know. It was only a matter of time before it all clicked. You're Blaine - and this is unreal," Kurt said quietly. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Kurt -"

"Yes."

"I saw the scar," Blaine said as he sat up completely, leaning against the head post of the bed.

"It was bound to happen eventually. This game has become even more fucked up than I could ever imagine. I'm betting you were sent after me as well - it only makes sense. We're at a bit of an impasse now," Kurt said.

"And you have a proposal?"

"I do."

"Naturally," Blaine responded. From what he had learned about Kurt, he knew that his wit was quick and that he wouldn't have shown up without a plan.

"Killing you is the last thing I want to do, and I know that it's mutual. I'm not going to pretend that what happened between us didn't mean anything. We made a great team. I'm not going to let that end so soon," Kurt nearly whispered.

"But I'm sure you want the gold and the glory," Blaine said.

"Of course I do," Kurt responded, "Was that ever a question?"

Blaine shook his head as he laughed, and Kurt silenced him with a warning look.

"Anyway, that's where my proposal comes in. You play dead. I report victorious, collect the prize, and this son of a bitch thinks they've won. But - I'm not letting them get away so easily. How does it sound, you and I taking this on together?" Kurt asked.

"It sounds - ingenious. But what happens when I have to rise from the dead?" Blaine questioned as he realized this plan might be more complicated than it sounds.

"Do you want to? I was under the impression that you wanted out of all of this, and this is your chance."

"But - what do you suppose I do...?"

"Well, you see, if we pull this off, then we'll both be wanted men. I know my brotherhood won't be happy with me, but I'm not sure if I care anymore," Kurt said, his voice cracking slightly.

"Are you suggesting that we take this person out and disappear -?"

"Or we die trying. Together," Kurt replied.

"Together...what are your intentions, Kurt?" Blaine asked, confused but hopeful. There was something about the way Kurt said the word - together - with conviction.

"I've been killing people for years. It began with revenge, an act that left me as empty as the day my father died. None of that was fulfilling, and I'm just realizing now that maybe this isn't where fate leads me, maybe there's another path to go down. And I think that path is meant to be traveled with - with you," Kurt said slowly. He turned now to face Blaine.

"Kurt, I - "

"Yes or no, Blaine. I'm laying it all out on the line, and I need to know if we're on the same page because this isn't something I do," Kurt said, becoming a bit frustrated with himself.

"Yes, Kurt. It's a yes. It's just that I'm surprised," Blaine nearly blurted out.

"I had a few conversations with someone that really got me thinking. What can I say?" Kurt said as a half-grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Where do we start?"

"Your death - your fake death, that is. Then I'll have to poke around and see what I can find out from my superior. This is going to be dangerous, and I'm not sure what I'll find out, but I'll report back here as soon as possible. And, Blaine?" Kurt breathed the last word.

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure what this is between us, but I think I'm actually - happy for once." Then there was silence as he stood up from the bed and turned toward the door.

"I think I'm happy too," Blaine responded. With his back still on Blaine, Kurt smiled and then proceeded out the door of the shack.

-A-

Kurt returned within a few short hours, and Blaine was still up anxiously waiting.

"It's official. You're a dead man. Congratulations," Kurt said.

"As morbid as that sounds, I've never heard greater news." Blaine smiled.

"I received one big tip that should help us go after this person. What we know is that all of those contracts were sent out by the same person. That person also happens to live - in the emperor's castle."

"That sounds insane. What are we getting ourselves into? You don't think -?"

"It's possible, but, no. I think it's someone else at the residence. This is still an extremely risky operation, but if we pull this off, I don't think anything can stop us," Kurt insisted.

"And nothing will," Blaine said as he locked eyes with Kurt for a moment.

Kurt finally pulled his hood completely off, and sat down on the bed beside Blaine with a heavy sigh. There was such an energy between the two, excitement mixed with trepidation, but, although there was no true victory yet, there seemed to be something to celebrate. Blaine was finally able to gaze into those blue eyes without fear, without the disguise. It was just Kurt, and he was just Blaine.

"This might be our last night together before all hell breaks loose," Kurt said, reaching out to grab Blaine's arms. The grip of Kurt's hand on his arm was familiar, but this time it was different. He could see the yearning in Kurt's eyes, the softness of his expression.

"It might be," Blaine agreed as he let himself be carried forward and into Kurt's arms.

"We should make it worthwhile." Kurt pushed Blaine down onto the bed beside him, shifted his body, and climbed on top of Blaine. This was it, the thing that Kurt had been missing, and now it belonged to him again.

"I'm sure you will," Blaine moaned as Kurt rolled his hips down into Blaine.

"If you fight, I'll only try harder," Kurt nearly growled as he grabbed Blaine's wrists and held them down on the bed beside him. Kurt watched as Blaine closed his eyes and lay his head back. Kurt's eyes scanned his face from his hair to his eyes to cheekbones, jaw, and those perfect, parted lips.

"Then I'll fight every second of it," Blaine uttered as Kurt dove in and began nipping at the skin on his neck. It was all coming back to him, that night, as he closed his eyes and tasted Blaine's skin.

"And you'll love it," Kurt breathed by his ear causing Blaine to shiver and swivel his hips beneath him.

"Mm," Blaine moaned again as Kurt slid his hands under Blaine's shirt and pulled it up over his head. Then he ran his hands up and down Blaine's bare chest. Blaine threw his head back and gave himself over to Kurt's will, surrendering to his power.

But as Kurt ran his fingers across Blaine's warm skin, something awoke within him. This time, he could actually see Blaine before him, illuminated in the moonlight streaming through the window. Kurt took his time admiring the rich, golden hue of Blaine's skin and how it stretched over the muscles that he now knew were a product of long days working in the field. He traced his finger along the light dusting of hair on his jaw, then to his chest, and finally to the the trail that led down his abdomen and disappeared beneath his pants.

"I want to fuck you so hard you'll lose your mind," Kurt said, pulling himself back into the moment with a renewed vigor. He pulled Blaine's pants off and made his way back toward Blaine's face.

"I've already lost it," Blaine said breathlessly, thrusting his hips upward and into Kurt, and his whole body shuddered when Kurt pushed him back down into the bed, his cock now completely hard and throbbing in anticipation.

"Oh no, Blaine, we're just getting started." And then their mouths finally met, fueled by a hunger that neither had experienced before. Blaine attacked Kurt's lips, giving in to the craving that had haunted him since that night. He let go of all his inhibitions and gave himself over to Kurt completely. Sensing a change, Kurt pulled away from the kiss, suddenly overwhelmed.

Kurt looked down at Blaine laid out bare beneath him, and he felt an intense swelling in his chest. In an attempt to overcome this unwanted rush of emotions, Kurt reached down to Blaine's cock, hoping to distract himself. He began to stroke Blaine, wanting to make him beg to be fucked senseless, but he made the mistake of glancing up to look at his face. Blaine's eyes were tightly shut, his head was thrown back, and there was a smile on his lips. Kurt felt like something had snapped within him. He pushed himself off and sat back, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He was now finding it impossible to look at Blaine, who, having felt Kurt pull away, opened his eyes.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispered, reaching out to place a hand on Kurt's hip.

"I can't - I'm sorry," Kurt shook his head violently and stood up from the bed.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked confused.

"You're - you're not just some warm body...Blaine." Kurt knew he had crossed the point of denial, of believing that he could fuck this man without feeling anything beyond physical pleasure. "I don't know how to do this - I've never had to -"

Blaine stood and took Kurt's face in his hands, halting his partial meltdown. He leaned his body into Kurt's and gazed deeply into his eyes.

"Then we can go slow," Blaine said in all earnestness. Kurt looked at him wide-eyed, terrified of what all of this might mean. "Relax," Blaine whispered before pressing his lips ever so gently against Kurt's. This was a whole new sensation, something so foreign. Kurt let his body go slack as Blaine eased them back down onto the bed.

Blaine stripped Kurt's robes from his body just like he had done before in the cave, but this time he reveled in the act of kissing and touching Kurt's smooth, pale skin that seemed to shine in the moonlight. His fingertips danced across his skin leaving goosebumps in their wake, and he ran his hand the length of Kurt's torso until he was by his hip which he then grasped, rubbing his thumb up and down the bone that jutted out.

Kurt emitted a few very soft sighs at the touch and leaned into Blaine as he kissed him once again on the mouth. This time it was deeper, and Blaine pulled Kurt's hips up to grind against him.

Although Kurt was slightly larger in build, this was the first time Blaine realized just how slender, vulnerable, and...human Kurt was. The stakes were so much higher now, and Blaine was prepared to take on the responsibility of protecting Kurt's heart as well as safeguarding his life.

Blaine lowered his mouth onto Kurt's cock and slowly took him into his mouth. Kurt writhed beneath him, and Blaine pulled off to lick up Kurt's length from the base to his head.

"Blaine," he breathed. "I'm so close already."

He sank back down on Kurt and began to quicken his pace as he slid his hand around to grab Kurt's ass. His other hand was soon wrapping around his own erection as he began to get himself off. Kurt let out a whimper as the muscles in his stomach clenched up.

Not wanting it to end that soon, Blaine pulled off of Kurt, and adjusted himself lower on the bed.

He lowered his head again, and Kurt suddenly felt a wet heat and then a pleasant pressure as Blaine's mouth made contact, and he swirled his tongue around Kurt's entrance in a circular motion.

Kurt gasped in response, and his back arched up off the bed as Blaine continued to brush his tongue against the tight, puckered muscle.

Kurt felt incredibly exposed, but he found it possible to relax while the other man was in control.

Then Blaine looked up at Kurt's writhing body as he pushed his finger in slowly. The noise Kurt made then was positively sinful, and Blaine wasted no time adding a second finger. It was too much but not enough, and Kurt felt himself growing impatient, wanting more. When Blaine pushed his tongue in alongside his fingers, Kurt lost it.

Kurt's head shot up, and he uttered forcefully, "No - fuck, Blaine. Need more. Now."

A prickling heat shot through Blaine's body in response to Kurt's command, and he didn't think twice before quickly removing his fingers. He was achingly hard and already leaking with precum, and he took himself in hand. He bit his bottom lip as he stroked himself a few times, and then he lined himself up with Kurt, pushing just his head inside. Without warning, Kurt wrapped his legs around Blaine and forced Blaine into him with one hard thrust.

White lights erupted behind Kurt's eyes as pain mixed with pleasure, and a loud moan escaped his lips. He looked up at Blaine who seemed to be trying to regain his composure, caught off guard by Kurt's compulsion to remain in control.

"You're so tight. I -," Blaine began breathlessly. He licked his lips, swallowed audibly, and then began to move inside Kurt. He grabbed Kurt's knee for support and adjusted his body in order to get a better angle as he felt himself building towards release. Kurt lifted his hips slightly, and that was all it took for Blaine to apply pressure to just the right spot.

"Th- there!" Kurt cried out, and Blaine doubled his efforts, quickening his pace. He was close to the edge, and he dove forward to kiss Kurt as he thrusted deeply within him, shuddering through his orgasm.

Seeing the blissed out expression on Blaine's face as he came and the added friction of his cock rubbing between their bodies was enough to push Kurt over the edge, and he came almost simultaneously, spilling out between them and over his stomach.

Still regaining his senses, Blaine stayed atop him for another minute, basking in how utterly wrecked Kurt looked. Then he slowly pulled out and rolled onto his side.

They lay there beside each other with nothing but the sound of their breathing and the chirping of insects echoing outside in the night. A faint whinny sounded from the stables off in the distance, and Kurt opened his eyes and gazed blankly at the ceiling. He could almost hear his pulse as the blood rushed through his veins, filling his tired limbs. His chest rose and fell easily, and a slight chill hit his lungs from the brisk night air that crept in through the cracks in the walls and doors.

If this was what it was like to lose control, to allow someone past his protective barriers, and to open himself up to the possibility of being one half of something larger than himself...

He was at peace. And all of this...it fit. It was as if a piece of him that had been missing had just been slotted into place and fixed in such a way that he felt not weaker for letting Blaine in, but stronger, a better, more absolute form of himself.

Kurt rolled onto his side and watched Blaine who lay there relaxed and still with his eyes closed, and he noticed the small grin that stretched across Blaine's lips. As he looked on, he soon found himself grinning fondly back, his eyelids grew heavy, and then fluttered closed as sleep overtook him.


	6. Chapter 6

Raising herself up on the tips of her toes, the small brunette pranced across the floor of the chamber, and with a twirl and a flourish of her arms, she took a seat in the chair by her vanity. As she looked through the glass, she saw another woman reflected in it standing not too far off behind her, and her lips curled up into a grin.

"It's over," the newcomer spoke.

"One of them has been slain? Are you sure about this?" she asked the other woman as she began to play with her hair, combing her fingers through its long, dark tresses.

"There's no evidence that proves otherwise," the other woman replied.

"Good. Although, I really did enjoy the game while it lasted," she said, pouting. "It had to end, though. They were getting too close, and I couldn't let them figure it out," she answered.

"Of course."

"I'm done with you now...run along. I'm bored of you already," she said nonchalantly with a dismissive wave of her hand as she redirected her gaze on herself in the mirror.

-A-

Over the next few weeks, Kurt prodded Noah for answers and anything that might clue him in about what they were dealing with. But to his dismay, Noah really didn't know much more than the information he had already provided. So, if he wanted real results, he only had one more option: Kurt would have to infiltrate Blaine's brotherhood. It wasn't a smart idea, in fact, it was a suicide mission, but it was his last hope.

Overall, Blaine was attempting to keep a low profile, but, because he still had a farm to upkeep, he spent the day at work. Blaine had been outside feeding the chickens and tending to his horse when Kurt walked up beside him.

"This isn't going to be easy, but I need to ask you for something that may or may not be the determining factor that ends this whole tired game," Kurt said.

"What is it?" Blaine asked, a bit wary of Kurt's tone.

"Where's the location of your brotherhood's base?" he asked.

"Kurt - I can't tell you. I can't let you walk into something like that. I know them better than any other, and they are ruthless. You walk in, and you won't come out," Blaine said as he ran his hand down the animal's mane, trying to distract himself from the issue at hand. He knew that fighting this was futile because Kurt was stubborn and would get it out of him one way or another - and he'd rather not have to find out what that "another" way might be.

"I need to do it. We'll never tackle this if I don't," Kurt insisted more forcefully now.

"If you're positive that there's no other way, then I - I'll tell you," Blaine said, sighing heavily. He turned now to face Kurt as he brushed his hands off on his pants.

"Good. I hope you don't doubt my abilities. I know how to handle my own," Kurt replied, placing his hand firmly on Blaine's shoulder.

Kurt followed Blaine back into the shack and stood with his arms crossed, watching Blaine as he grudgingly made his way around the room in search of the information Kurt had requested. He didn't want to be responsible for any harm that may befall Kurt, and it bothered him even further that he couldn't be of any true assistance in the matter.

Blaine opened up a drawer, pulled out a crude map, and reluctantly handed it to Kurt.

"Do you really think Santana is just going to give you information? How exactly do you think you're going to do that?" Blaine questioned.

"That's for me to know. I have my ways. How many assassins can I expect to encounter if I go, let's say, tonight?" Kurt asked quickly, shrugging off Blaine's concerns as he studied the map.

"Santana is always there. You'll probably run into Sam and perhaps Mike - but there's also the possibility that you'll get Santana alone," Blaine explained.

"That would be very convenient," Kurt said as his gaze became distant as if formulating the plan in his head.

"Kurt - "

"I'm not going to kill anyone. Don't worry."

"No - I mean, good, but you can't get in without this," Blaine said as he pulled out a small, smooth, stone with something carved into it that resembled the crest Blaine also sported on his robes.

"Oh - thank you." Kurt held his hand out, and Blaine dropped the stone into his palm. He closed his fingers tightly around it. Kurt swallowed hard. This was it.

"Now go, before I change my mind," Blaine said flatly.

-A-

Santana didn't know what hit her. First, she was enjoying a generous goblet of wine while going over the latest contracts, and the next thing she knew, she was gagged, blindfolded, and tied up in the same chair. Her head ached fiercely, and she blinked hard beneath the material covering her eyes. She pulled up against the ropes, but her wrists were securely tethered. Santana groaned behind the gag in annoyance.

"Oh - you're awake," came a voice that sounded male but was in a higher register than she was used to. She couldn't respond, so she just growled and rolled her eyes.

"I guess it would benefit both of us to take that out of your mouth - although, I must say, I quite liked having you completely at my mercy," Kurt said. He reached over and pulled the gag from out of her mouth.

"Fuck off," Santana spat as soon as her tongue was free. "Who do you think you are coming in here - who the fuck are you and how did you even get in?"

"Oh, darling, it's my turn to ask questions. This is an interrogation, and, in case you haven't noticed, you're the one tied up," Kurt grabbed Santana's face with his one hand and squeezed her cheeks lightly in a mocking manner.

"Don't touch me, you snake." She spat in Kurt's direction but missed.

"Well, aren't you nasty. I might regret allowing you to speak with that dirty little mouth of yours. But, you're not so tough. And now, if you'd be so kind, you'll tell me what I need to know, and I'll be on my way," Kurt said.

"I'm not telling you a damned thing," Santana said through clenched teeth as she struggled against the ropes again.

"Oh, but you will. You don't want to make things more difficult - " Santana felt cool metal brush across her cheek, "than they have to be. Besides, I have no intention of hurting you," Kurt spoke softly by her ear.

"You made a huge mistake coming in here. My men will be back any second now, and you'll be outnumbered. Hope you don't mind hanging from a hook as we spit on your mangled body," Santana growled, both completely enraged and panicked at the newly heightened sense of danger.

"That's where you're wrong. You see, I have intelligence that leads me to believe that - _Sam_ - that's his name, right? Is out on a job, and Mike - yes, that sounds familiar too - hasn't stopped by at all. Looks like it's just you and me, dear...and my knife," Kurt said. "Now - tell me where your recent contracts have been coming from," he demanded.

"I don't know anything, you -"

"You're lying," Kurt interjected coolly. "You know who your client is. Now tell me."

"Never -" Kurt slapped Santana across the face. "Fuck you," she gasped as her head snapped back to face forward again. Santana muttered something that was barely audible as her chest heaved from anxiety.

"Excuse me, I didn't hear what you said."

"Ber - Berry," she breathed.

"Berry?"

"The bitch's name is Berry - that's all I know," Santana responded.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not all you know, but I have a name, and I can work with that," Kurt said. "Now, another reliable source has informed me that this - _Berry_ - lives at the residence of the emperor," he prodded on hoping for a confirmation.

"It's possible," Santana scoffed.

"You know it's true, don't you?"

"Yes -" she admitted.

"Good. That wasn't so difficult, was it? Now I'll be on my way - thanks for the lovely chat," Kurt said smugly, patting Santana on the shoulder. She shuddered at the touch.

"This isn't over. I will find you."

"Looking forward to it," Kurt replied flippantly, and he turned on his heel to exit the base, leaving Santana tied up and blindfolded as she screamed out curses after him.

-A-

"It feels so strange to suit up again," Blaine said as he pulled on his boots and reached for his mask. He fixed his mask in place, pulled his hood up, slid his hands into his gloves, and then turned toward Kurt who had been inspecting his bow and had his arrows laid out across the bed. Kurt half-listened to Blaine as he gathered everything up, flung the quiver over his chest and shoulder, and strapped it to himself along with his knife, satchel, and otherwise. He wasn't sure what they were about to run headfirst into, but he was ready to face it.

"Well, this is familiar," Kurt said, finally looking up. He exhaled heavily. They stood there looking at each other in full disguise, then Kurt chuckled and Blaine quickly joined in.

Blaine glanced down at the crest on his robes, the emblem made up of a raven and a dagger, and he wondered how they could take something so free as a bird and pervert it in such a way to symbolize something so warped and limited.

"I hope I never have to put these on again," Blaine said.

"Me too," Kurt replied, but he could sense that something else was bothering Blaine. "Blaine...?

Blaine looked up to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Blaine, we're going to make it through this...we'll find this Berry woman, kill her, then escape from all of this wretchedness together. We may live out our days with a target on our backs, but at least we'll be living."

Blaine smiled weakly and nodded. But as Kurt turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Kurt, before we go, there's something I have to say. I never want to say goodbye to you again. I know that goodbyes are inevitable, but I'm selfish, and I want to remain by your side...in whatever time we have."

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaine. I know I shouldn't make any promises, but I'm going to anyway. We possess skills that few could even dream of, and if we face it now as one, as a team, we're an even greater force to reckon with." Then Kurt suddenly grabbed his hand.

"But there's another bond between us that makes us even stronger, unstoppable, even," he continued as he laced their fingers together. "With that said, I promise that we're going to clean up this mess, and, from this day forward, we will never look back."

"I know, but -"

"But nothing. You need to get it together now. Your life - our lives depend on it. It's alright to feel afraid, but I have faith in us, and, maybe...maybe it's not so bad to believe in a greater purpose - or even something as inane as love. C'mon, Blaine. I'm not letting you go."

-A-

Blaine slid the bridle onto his horse and positioned the reins to rest on its back.

Kurt watched, suddenly nervous about the trip: he had never ridden a horse in his life. Blaine looked to Kurt and noticed the obvious reservation in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked. "You look like you're about to mess yourself."

"It's nothing," Kurt scoffed as he shot Blaine a pointed glare. Blaine laughed, and Kurt put his foot down heavily and huffed. He crossed his arms and turned his head to the side, now pissed off at Blaine for the comment. It wasn't _that _absurd, Kurt thought, that he was a bit hesitant about mounting an animal that was ten times his size and could crush him if it so chose, right?

"Oh," Blaine said, realizing the issue. "Artemis is really sweet. She's completely harmless," he said, patting her on the neck. The black-haired beast threw her head back in appreciation and let out a soft whinny.

"How do you even -?" Kurt pointed toward the horse's back which was nearly the same height from the ground as Blaine's shoulders. He narrowed his eyes as they darted from Blaine to the horse and back to Blaine again. The imagined attempts of the small man before him mounting the creature were humorous, and Kurt nearly laughed aloud.

"Like this." Blaine grasped the reins with one hand and her mane with the other and jumped up, swinging his right leg over Artemis's back. Now securely atop the horse, he sat up and looked toward Kurt. "Easy enough? Now let's stop wasting time. We need to be on our way."

Kurt's mouth had been hanging slightly open beneath his mask, so he closed it, clenching his jaw as he approached the horse.

"Grab onto me," Blaine explained, reaching his hand out, "then just - climb up. I know you can do it. I've seen you leap across rooftops, so this should be easy."

"That's not the problem," Kurt retorted. Then, grabbing Blaine's arm, he hoisted himself up onto its back and fidgeted for a moment to find his balance before settling in behind Blaine. Kurt slid his arms under Blaine's and around his torso, grabbing hold of the reins. He pressed his fists tightly against Blaine's abdomen.

"Hold on to me, don't move around too much, and lean into me, and you should be fine," Blaine explained. Kurt was a bit uncomfortable now that he realized the height he was sitting off the ground, but he listened and moved in, pressing his chest up against Blaine's back. Then, without much more of a warning, Blaine yanked the reins, led them onto the road, and then they were off, racing along just as the sun fell below the horizon.

The horse galloped along, and it took Kurt a few minutes to be able to open his eyes, but he leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder and tried to relax. The wind stung his eyes, causing them to water profusely, which began to irritate him.

"I don't know how you do this. I can hardly keep my eyes open against this wind," Kurt shouted by Blaine's ear, squinting as they took a turn off the road and into the woods.

"The mask helps, but you get used to it. When you do a lot of travel for work, it really becomes convenient," Blaine shouted, turning his head in hopes Kurt could hear him. "That last job we pulled off -?"

"Yeah?"

"That was the first time I had traveled on foot in a while. I will never take my horse for granted ever again," Blaine said with a laugh. Then Blaine urged Artemis on through the trees as a few small branches and leaves brushed against their bodies.

"You might want to duck in this part," Blaine said, "the branches are much lower." He lowered his body and pressed his chest flat against the horse's neck, wrapping his arms around as well. Kurt mimicked his movement and leaned forward, pulling himself flat against Blaine's back again. He closed his eyes, but this time he sank into the warmth of Blaine's body.

They rode along the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the outskirts of the imperial city, Blaine pulled up on the reins and brought Artemis to a stop. Once they dismounted, Blaine found a tree and began racking-up.

"Artemis will be fine right here," Blaine explained. "She's used to waiting by now. Good girl," he said, patting the horse's forehead. He pulled an apple out of his bag, and she took it graciously, stomping her foot in thanks.

"I could actually get used to riding a horse," Kurt said. "It wasn't so bad - although my thighs are sore," he added, stretching and massaging his legs with his hands. Blaine laughed.

"We only have a few hours. Let's get this over with," Blaine said, and they took off in the direction of the city.

-A-

The castle loomed above them perched high on a hill to the northernmost region of the city. They didn't have a concrete plan, but they weren't stupid enough to go barreling in either. It was fairly common knowledge that the system of tunnels that ran underneath the city led right up into the jails off the left wing of the emperor's residence. However, it was also well-known that there was an entire fleet of guards that roamed the tunnels in order to keep out "rats" like themselves.

They soon came to terms with the fact that this was an all or nothing mission: they would kill if they had to, but the plan was to keep casualties as few as possible. Kurt brought along with him extra rope and strips of fabric just in case their progress got a little tied up.

They reached a somewhat secluded entrance to a tunnel that was overgrown with foliage. With his knife, Kurt cut away at some vines and ripped them away from the grate. When it was cleared away, Blaine pulled the grating open, leaped down into the passageway, and then signaled for Kurt to follow. Once they were both down in the tunnel, they swiftly began their descent.

Blaine pressed his body flat up against the wall, and Kurt soon followed. They stepped cautiously through the passageway, careful to remain in the shadows.

Before long, they came to an intersection where the tunnel split off in three directions. They ducked down, keeping alert, and peered around the corners in each direction. But then Kurt froze dead still as he heard footsteps echoing down the hall to the right.

He pushed Blaine behind him against the wall, and slowly poked his head around the corner. There was a guard making his rounds, and he was headed in their direction. They waited with bated breath until the guard entered the intersection. Kurt leaped out and knocked him to the ground while Blaine went to work gagging the man. Kurt tied up his wrists and ankles. They propped him up against a nearby wall behind a pillar so that he'd be less likely to be found, thus alerting the rest of the guards of their presence.

They listened quietly for a moment, and when they believed the coast was clear, Blaine signaled for Kurt to follow him as he continued in the direction from which the guard had come. But a few moments later, Kurt stopped again, and Blaine whipped around to see what was the matter.

"Kurt," Blaine hissed, "Let's go."

Kurt didn't respond, but he gave Blaine a warning look and proceeded to take his knife out. He touched the point to the wall and then appeared to be carving a symbol of some sort into the stone. Blaine looked on with a puzzled expression.

"I'm just...I'm marking our progress," Kurt finally responded. When he finished, he stowed his knife away again. "Alright. Now we can go."

"This way," Blaine said, pointing down the hall, and they crept along again until they heard voices nearby. Kurt pressed his body up against the wall again, but this time, he drew his knife. One guard they could easily incapacitate, but there were at least two guards approaching, and an encounter could become dangerous very quickly.

As the pair of guards drew nearer, Kurt tackled one into the wall, grabbed his shoulders, and slammed his head repeatedly against the stone until he lost consciousness. The other guard quickly drew his sword but was caught off guard by a punch to the gut from Blaine. Enraged, the man swung his sword, but Blaine nimbly dodged out of the way of its trajectory.

Kurt had gone to work quickly tying up the other guard as the tussle went on between Blaine and the guard. When he turned around to help, he could do nothing but watch as the guard's sword came down on Blaine's leg. Blaine yelled out in pain and collapsed to the floor. The guard then turned toward Kurt but was taken by surprise by an arrow in the chest. He stumbled in shock for a moment as Kurt took aim and shot another through his stomach. Kurt was seething, and he glared menacingly at the man as he pulled back on his bow one final time and shot another arrow clear through the man's eye. He fell forward onto his knees and then hit the stone ground with a resounding thud.

Kurt stared down at the mass on the floor, his chest heaving. He heard a whimper, which snapped him out of his rage, and he rushed to Blaine's side, suddenly terrified of what he might find. Blaine was on the ground clutching his leg.

"I'll be alright," Blaine said, but his breath was coming out ragged. He winced as another stinging pain shot through his body. "It's not that deep," he said, but Kurt knew better.

He gently dragged Blaine and sat him up against the wall. Then he rummaged in his satchel and pulled out strips of linen that he carried for situations such as this.

"Try to relax," Kurt said as he pulled Blaine's hands away from the wound. It looked really bad, and Kurt's stomach turned at the sight. After wiping away some of the excess blood, Kurt found that Blaine was right; it appeared to be more of a surface cut which was a bit of a relief. The next item Kurt pulled out of his bag was a small bottle of alcohol, and he looked sympathetically at Blaine.

"Here," he said, handing Blaine another piece of bunched up fabric. "Bite down on this...you're not going to like this part."

"Just do it," Blaine nearly growled as he stuffed the fabric between his teeth and clenched his jaw, biting down around it. His eyes began to water as he watched Kurt peel back the tattered fabric of his pants, uncork the bottle, and begin to pour the alcohol over the wound. Blaine's groans were muffled by the fabric as he turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Kurt dabbed at the wound with the linen and tore off another piece to wrap around Blaine's leg. He pulled it tight and tied it securely in place, applying pressure to stem the bleeding. Then he wrapped one more piece around the outside before gathering up his supplies and putting them back in his bag.

Blaine finally opened his eyes and turned back to look at Kurt. He watched as Kurt removed the fabric from his mouth and gazed at Blaine with mournful eyes.

"Thank you," Blaine said quietly.

"You're going to be okay," Kurt said. "This is just going to make things a little more difficult."

"I can keep going. It's fine," Blaine said as he unsuccessfully tried to stand up on the leg, but he nearly fell over again. Kurt caught him and helped him up onto his feet. Blaine swayed for a moment as his body fought off the pain, but then endorphins kicked in, and Blaine insisted on continuing on.

Blaine limped along beside Kurt, occasionally leaning on him for support, but they were soon forced to duck into a small depression in the wall as they heard hurried footsteps coming their way.

"Wait here," Kurt said.

"But, Kurt - "

"I'll take care of this," he said, and he turned around, leaving Blaine behind. Blaine listened carefully as he heard a commotion arise from a short distance down the passage. He heard the crash of metal on stone, some shouting, and then the pounding of feet coming down the corridor back in his direction.

Blaine's heart began to race, and he pulled his dagger out, still unaware of what was happening. Then he saw Kurt bounding down the tunnel. And just as Kurt turned his head around to glimpse the guard who was gaining on him, he lost his footing, stumbled, and fell hard to the ground.

The guard was only feet away, his weapon drawn. Kurt hastily twisted onto his back, his eyes wide with fear. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart as the guard lifted his sword above his head.

At that moment, Blaine pushed himself up from the ground and lunged at the guard, wrapping his arms around his midsection. He brought him down heavily, and the guard's sword clattered to the ground. Blaine climbed atop the fallen guard, and his fist made impact with the man's face with a loud crack. Then he came back at him with another blow, and another, until the man lost consciousness. Blaine looked down at the man's face, and he suddenly had a flashback to that day in his shop.

He stood up on shaky legs, blinking his eyes rapidly. Then he turned to finally look at Kurt who was still on the ground, seemingly unharmed, but with a look of pure amazement and admiration in his eyes. Blaine couldn't help but smile weakly at Kurt, but then his leg gave out and he collapsed again.

"Blaine!" Kurt said, rushing to his side, his expression now turning worried. "You shouldn't have put so much pressure on your leg. That was - it was great though. It was hot," Kurt breathed.

"Are you alright? It looked like you hit your head when you fell," Blaine asked.

"I did, but I'm just a bit dizzy. It'll pass," Kurt replied. "I've had much closer calls. I can't believe I was so clumsy, though."

Blaine managed to stand back up on his own and pulled Kurt back up with him.

"Maybe if you hadn't been so cocky," Blaine joked. "You shouldn't have tried to take on two men on your own." They both paused, looked at each other, and laughed.

"I'm glad you find my misfortune amusing. Now, let's go. We need to do something about these two before they wake up," Kurt said, gesturing to the man beside them and to the one sprawled out down the passageway.

They made quick work of binding their limbs, and, as an extra precaution, - and because Kurt found humor in it - tied the two together and shoved them into the alcove in the wall.

The rest of the way was clear as they rounded a few more corners and eventually came to a ladder leading up through what appeared to be a trapdoor.

"You think you can handle the climb?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," Blaine said.

"Alright, but you head up first, and I'll make sure you don't fall."

"Fair enough," Blaine said and then grabbed hold of the rung and hoisted himself up, careful with his footing as he climbed upward. He reached the door and pushed up on the wood until it budged. It slid open fairly easily, and he pushed himself up through the hole.

To his surprise, what lay beyond the door was not the dungeons. Blaine glanced around at the dark room. It appeared to be a storage room: shelves lined the walls filled with odds and ends, there were wooden crates, and even a few barrels, all covered in cobwebs and dust.

As soon as Blaine gained his footing, Kurt emerged through the hole and pulled himself up into the room. Kurt scanned the shelves until his eyes fell upon a bolt of fabric. Knowing that it could become useful, he pulled it down from the shelf and began tearing strips off, rolling it up around his hand, and stuffed it inside his bag. Then he reached into a crate and pulled out some rope which he also stowed away. Blaine watched him with a questioning expression.

"We'll need it," Kurt explained. "There's no point in leaving it here. It looks like no one has been in this room for ages." He ran his finger over one of the shelves, lifting it to display caked on dust.

"We should continue along now," Blaine said. "The sooner we finish this, the better."

Kurt nodded, and they made their way to the door which led out into the castle. He slowly pushed it open and looked round the hall before him. It appeared deserted, and, although it was night, the castle was eerily quiet. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw something move, he signaled quickly to Blaine to duck down out of sight. Two guards passed by, and, as soon as they had vanished down another hall, Kurt and Blaine stepped carefully in the direction of the guards' departure.

The hall opened out into a grand entranceway filled with statues, stone vases, and carved wooden furniture embellished with gold. They heard the footsteps echoing back down the hall, returning to their origin, and Blaine took refuge behind a statue. He drew his dagger and waited.

Kurt ducked down behind a vase and drew his knife. They were so close now that there was no time to risk their lives for the sake of fewer casualties.

The guards came around the corner, and, having not seen Kurt or Blaine, walked right by their locations. Kurt quickly lunged forward and sliced into the closest guard's Achilles tendon. He yelled out in agony, but Kurt silenced him by snapping his neck. The other guard turned towards Kurt and began to advance on him when Blaine thrusted his dagger into his back, pushing it up under his ribcage and twisting it to the left. He collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap.

Kurt loomed over the two fallen guards and nudged the one with his foot to make sure the deed was done. He leaned down and cleaned his knife off on the fabric of the one guard's uniform before sliding it back into its casing.

"There's one more place to go," Kurt whispered. "Up," he added, nodding his head in the direction of the staircase.

-A-

Rachel heard a crash outside her chamber door, and she turned in her chair, listening quietly in attempt to figure out the source of the commotion. Then she heard a click as the doors swung open. She stood up and spun around to greet her visitors, but what she saw was completely unexpected: not one, but two assassins entered the room, weapons drawn, and both looking like they had just come back from war, tattered garb, bloody weapons, and all.

Kurt and Blaine glanced around the room before locking eyes with the only occupant.

A petite woman stood before them, and, although she appeared relatively harmless, the maniacal gleam in her eyes and the way she flashed a big, toothy grin at them made them believe otherwise.

After a moment, Kurt realized that he had seen that grin before. At his inn. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it, attempting to piece together vague memories and how everything could have possibly led up to this woman. But, at a loss, all he could utter was:

"You?"


	7. Chapter 7

Taken completely aback by Kurt's reaction to this apparent stranger, Blaine spun around to face Kurt, a look of utter bewilderment upon his face, and was rendered speechless.

"_You_!" Kurt said again, this time stepping forward, his knife in his hand pointing directly at the woman.

"Yes, _me_! Hello, boys," Rachel said, as she walked slowly toward them. "Can't say that I'm surprised to see you two together - it's _cute_," she squealed, clasping her hands together.

"Save it, wench," Kurt spat. He kept his knife drawn but lowered it as he stepped slowly around Rachel, looking her up and down, calling to memory exactly how he knew her.

"Yes, we're both still alive, but _you_ won't be so lucky when we're through with you," Blaine said, although still out of the loop of what was happening.

"Oh! A threat! This is fantastic!" Rachel exclaimed, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

"I've seen you before," Kurt began, his eyes narrowing. Then he pulled his mask down so that he could speak more clearly: they were past the point of needing disguises. "You're the one who sat at my bar, your ass planted on one of my stools, and prevented paying customers from having a drink, just so you could talk for what felt like hours with my apprentice, Finn," Kurt spoke slowly, continuing his paces around her. She revolved slowly with his movement, keeping her bright eyes locked on him. "Oh, no. You're someone I wouldn't forget. But...who _are_ you, _Berry_?" Kurt asked, snarling as her name passed his lips.

"If it's my name you want, you're only missing half of it. I'm Rachel Berry, the daughter of a bishop in the emperor's court. My father is sort of his - _right hand_ man," she said with a suggestive wink. "And, yes. That was me, and I'm flattered you remember. Finn was definitely one of my favorites," she added, grinning devilishly.

Kurt glared daggers at Rachel, and it took everything within him to not destroy her right then and there. He put his knife away and stood up straight, crossing his arms. The day he watched that interaction between the two of them, he was consumed with a jealous rage that embittered him for days. He didn't really know her, but he despised her, her flirtatious devil-may-care ways, and the manner in which she so easily manipulated unsuspecting men. Despite his shameless fantasies, he genuinely cared about Finn, but he'd admit that he wasn't known for his wit.

"But - why? Why did you do it?" Blaine asked.

"Whatever are you talking about, my dear?" Rachel questioned, playing dumb.

"Don't even try that with me. What drove you to kill all of those people? Better yet, why did you pit two brotherhoods against each other?" Blaine asked.

"It's simple. I love a good show. It was extremely entertaining while it lasted. But if you really must know, I had my reasons - for the contracts. I love competition, but I don't like when I have any, so I eliminate it. Quinn was a bitch. I had her husband killed first. But it didn't feel as satisfying as I thought it would. She had always won the favor of the men in town, and I hated her for it. She was beautiful, and I was never so lucky. Then there was Sebastian. He was an arrogant tradesman who often visited my father under the pretenses that they were doing business, but I found out the truth. They were definitely doing business, but it didn't involve trading of any sort. I walked in on them one day, and that's when I decided that the little whore had to die. Then there was William. I was in love with him, but it was unrequited. When I found out that he settled down with that sexless mouse of a woman, I was heartbroken. So I decided to break hers, too."

"Bravo. That was a fantastic monologue, but I didn't come here tonight for a performance," Kurt said dryly, clapping slowly in a mocking manner.

"Why us?" Blaine asked.

"That was just an added bonus. I've been around. I've seen things that could destroy even the most powerful of men. You see, I had been using the services of the Ravenblood brotherhood for years, and this guy," she pointed to Blaine, "was my personal favorite." She winked again, directing it at him, and Kurt bared his teeth at her in response. "But then I found out about yours," she said, pointing to Kurt. "I saw you sneaking out one night on your way to work. You're not as adept as you think you are. But what interested me most was what I witnessed one night in your dainty little inn while on my way to visit the Duke: Curls here was involved in a very thorough examination of the beautiful, blue-eyed and very oblivious barkeep. I could practically smell the pheromones rising off of him like an animal in heat. It was fantastic."

She paused, took a deep breath, and then continued, the malevolent glint still in her eyes.

"From that point on, it all became a game, a race to see which one of you made it first, and, if one of you killed the other in the process, then that was just another perk. I mean, two men with too many dark, dark secrets and a yet to be realized yearning for each other en route to putting out the flame before it could even be lit? Now that's entertainment. Not to mention, mister blue-eyes here was practically drooling over his dear apprentice, and I simply couldn't have that. It was when I had the two of you followed that I found out you had joined together, and I knew the game was over. So I made _sure_ one of you would kill the other. It seems it didn't work, though. Pity."

"You're an insane bitch," Kurt snarled, his hands balled up into fists by his sides as his body began to shake. Up until this point, he had kept his composure, but to be made a fool of like that, and to that extent, pushed him past his threshold.

"Says the man who kills people for a living. It was so easy for you to do my dirty work, so, actually, I never murdered a single person. The blood was and will always be on your hands," Rachel retorted.

"But the guilt will always be in your soul," Blaine growled.

Rachel laughed an unsettling laughter that reverberated off the walls of the chamber.

"Blaine, this witch doesn't have a soul," Kurt said.

"Really, this has been amusing, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to call in the guards now and have you disappear. You're officially boring me," Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

"You mean the guards who are tied up, unconscious, or dead, and are littering the floors of your precious castle?" Kurt shot back at her with an impish grin. Oh, now the tables have turned, Kurt thought, and she was about to find out that she had dug a hole for herself out of which would be impossible for her to climb.

"What?" she choked, and for a split second, fear flickered across her features.

"Every last one," Blaine assured her, finally stepping up, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up into an unforgiving grin. They had come so far and were about to taste victory, and it would be the most satisfying thing in which Blaine had ever indulged.

"You underestimate our ability. You fucked with the wrong type of people. Perhaps, individually, you would have had us at your disposal, but your careless actions resulted in an unstoppable, murderous powerhouse. Hasn't anyone ever told you that you don't arm a criminal - especially two skilled ones with absolutely no qualms about life - or destroying it?" Kurt questioned mockingly.

"Shit," she swore. But then her expression returned to the same crazy smile that she had been wearing the entire time she recounted her plot. "I guess you two got me...but, I think you ought to know that there's someone you may have overlooked, someone I believe you are both quite familiar with," Rachel said.

At that, a dark-haired, olive-skinned woman stepped through a doorway behind Rachel.

"Blaine -"

"Santana?!" Blaine exclaimed.

"No," Kurt said almost to himself.

"This is exciting! It's a reunion!" Rachel clapped her hands and beamed.

But when Blaine got a good look at Santana, he noticed that she didn't possess her usual vigor, and, instead of the intimidating air she usually had about her, she appeared positively whipped. There was sadness in her eyes - she looked defeated.

"This must be -" Santana began.

"Kurt. We've met," he said smugly.

"I know."

"Santana, why don't you tell them what you've been up to?" Rachel interrupted, in attempt to move things along.

"What is she talking about?" Blaine asked, still in complete disbelief.

"I've known what was going on the entire time," Santana began slowly.

"She was my accomplice!" Rachel singsonged, interrupting again.

"It's not as simple as that. It's never that simple," Santana said, side-eyeing Berry.

"Explain yourself, now," Kurt pressed her.

"I was blackmailed. All I could do was play along and hope that I - that this bitch would give me Brittany back," she said.

"Brittany...?" Blaine asked, confused. He had never once heard mention of anyone with that name.

"Berry has been holding her captive with the knowledge that she could manipulate me by - by taking the only thing I ever loved from me - the only person. So, if I let this whole thing play out by playing dumb, then I'd be trading your lives for hers, more or less," she explained.

"But - something is not adding up, Santana," Blaine said. "How exactly does someone like _her_ suddenly turn on someone like _you_?" he asked.

"I denied her a contract," Santana said.

"For what reason?"

"She wanted Quinn dead," she spoke firmly. "While I never kept much company, Quinn was an exception. Brittany, Quinn and I grew up in the same village and spent our childhood together. But when my fortune turned, Quinn still stuck around and kept my ugly secrets. We were an unbreakable trinity," she said. "She found out about my deepest secret, the chink in my armor, and she made me choose between Quinn and Brittany: either allow the hit on Quinn, or she would keep Brittany locked up for good."

"I can't believe it," Blaine uttered.

"I don't give a damn what you believe, Blaine," Santana retorted.

"You lied to all of us. You were supposed to be our leader, but you lied and sent me on suicide missions knowing and being content with the fact that I may or may not come back," he cried out, his voice shaking with the anger now boiling up from his core.

"I had to make a choice," she responded.

"And I bet you didn't even bat an eye, did you? You were so selfish that you probably only thought of being one step closer to getting what you want - what was taken from you."

"No, I didn't care. You're right. Brotherhood or not, your life means very little to me. We're a family in the sense that we have each other's backs, but, when my own is threatened, I'm not going to risk losing my whole world to save you. So of course I played her game," Santana admitted.

"This is the best part!" Rachel squealed, and everyone turned to look at her. "You guys are going to go at each other now because you feel hurt and betrayed, and I'm going to sit back and watch knowing that I had no intentions of releasing your dimwitted, blondie girlfriend," she sang out.

"Hold on just one minute - " Santana said, now spinning around to face Rachel.

"Aw, you're cute. They hate you, Santana. They're going to have no choice but to kill you, and then all of my problems will be a thing of the past," she responded with a mock frown on her face.

"_You_," Santana growled, "_eres una puta pequeña de Infierno_," she muttered. "_Estás muerto_!"

"I really don't like to be kept waiting. Give me a bloodbath. It'll be fun, and I'll just make my servants clean up the mess - Oh! I'll make Brittany clean it up," Rachel added with a malicious grin, her eyes shining with a wickedness the likes that neither Kurt nor Blaine had seen before.

"You want blood?" Kurt suddenly spoke up. He placed his hand on his bow at his side.

"No problem. We can show you blood and guts - your own. Strewn across the floor and the walls," Blaine added, unsheathing his dagger. They began to move in closer to Rachel.

"But what about Santana?" Rachel asked, stepping back slowly but still with a smile on her face.

"We'll deal with her once we're through with you. You really thought you were going to get away with what you did?" Blaine asked, continuing to step forward toward her.

"Well, yes," Rachel answered frankly. "I'm quite accustomed to getting my way."

"And you said you wanted to have fun, right? Well, let me tell you a little something about myself. When I kill, I make sure I do it right. I have fun with my victims." Kurt said.

"Kurt - "

"No, Blaine. Let me do this. Grab her, will you?" Blaine lunged forward, grabbed Rachel, and pulled her arms roughly behind her back. She squealed and struggled a bit. Her smile had completely vanished: she was a cornered animal and there was no escape.

Kurt began to pace around Rachel again, but this time, he knew he was completely in control.

"I'll tell you a story. I've been told I'm an excellent narrator, you just have to make sure you listen very closely," Kurt began. "The human body is a very interesting thing. There is an intricate network of nerves running throughout your body that are responsible for everything from your thoughts to pleasure, such as an orgasm, to pain, the worst you could ever imagine. Then there's the spinal cord. I can sever it - right here," he said, jabbing her in the back with his finger, "and you'll never walk again. But then there's the brain, the center where all your most wicked thoughts originate from. I could shut it down with a single thrust of a sword or dagger or even an arrow. But I have another plan. I'm just going to slit your throat," Kurt concluded coolly.

Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but within seconds, Blaine had reached up, dagger in hand, and positioned it beneath her chin with the point facing the ceiling. But instead of ripping through the flesh on her neck, he thrust the dagger upward through her chin with an immense amount of force, tearing through her tongue and hard palate, and coming to rest deep in the center of her brain. He withdrew the blade, and Rachel's head dropped limply to the side. As blood began to pour out of the gaping wound, Blaine let go of her body, allowing it to collapse to the floor with a thud. Kurt watched in astonishment as the blood pooled around her body.

Blaine had been watching Santana out of the corner of his eye as she stood there in shock, but then he noticed her begin to slowly step backwards towards the door.

"Hold it right there!" Blaine yelled as he broke into a dash and wrestled Santana to the floor. He lifted her up and held her tightly.

"Please - please just let me go," she pleaded, writhing about in his firm grasp with tears in her eyes. "She's dead now, it's over. You two have nothing to worry about now, so please just let me go," she continued to beg.

It made Blaine physically ill to look upon Santana in the mess of a state she was in, so he threw her down on the ground before him and drew his dagger again. He held it forward and glared menacingly into Santana's eyes.

"I have to make a choice," Blaine derided. "Surely you understand my predicament."

He raised his blade up above her.


	8. Chapter 8

"Blaine, please," Santana begged, unrelenting in her desperation.

"Give me a reason why you don't deserve to die like her," Blaine cried, his voice strangled with a quiet rage. "You're no better."

But as he looked down upon her fragile body splayed out on the floor, helpless, he couldn't find it within him to kill her. The crime she had committed was unforgivable, but who was Blaine to decide her fate? As he stood above her, her life in his hands, he knew that nothing would come of this, that her death would solve nothing. Santana had nothing, nothing but the object of her affections, and, if he were to strip her of any chance she had of redemption, then he would feel the guilt for eternity. There was someone in her life who might cause her to change her ways, someone she cared enough about to take those risks and commit those terrible treasons in order to save, and he could relate to that. He was no better either, and he knew it.

"Go," Blaine ordered.

"What?" Santana gasped in disbelief.

"Get up now. Get Brittany, and go. Disappear."

"But -" Kurt tried to interrupt, but Blaine cut him off, holding his hand up for him to remain quiet.

"Just make sure I never see your face again or hear anything about you. Those are my conditions," Blaine said, and he watched Santana scramble up off the floor, and, looking back once, her eyes alight with dazed gratitude, she made a dash for the door and took off with the speed of a tiger with fire on its heels.

Kurt and Blaine approached the window and peered out over the grounds. Everything was silent now. They were waiting for something, unsure of exactly what, and then, within minutes, they saw it: Santana leading a tall, blonde woman out of the castle with her. They ran as swiftly as they could across the grounds until they reached the woods. And then they were gone.

It was over.

Blaine's decision affected Kurt in a way he couldn't fathom.

After everything they had been through, Blaine made the decision to be merciful. Mercy, Kurt thought, was something that only the pious were worthy of bestowing or receiving, and, yet, Blaine had allowed Santana to walk. Certainly, he understood that they had a history, and maybe it wasn't his right to think he should have had a say. No - it wasn't his place. And then it hit him all at once, and he felt lightheaded. Kurt's features softened dramatically as he turned to look at the man beside him who had literally just sacrificed everything to get to this point alongside himself.

He never thought they would ever reach the end, and now that they were there, he was at a loss for where to go from this point. This was never actually in the plan. He had never had so much - freedom. A chill suddenly shot through his body, rattling his bones, and caused him to twitch. And that involuntary movement shook him back into his present circumstance.

Kurt released a heavy sigh, collapsing from his core as if his body was ready to shut down and rest for days. He finally began to feel the wear on his whole being as a result of the entire fight: like a soldier at the conclusion of his final battle ready to make his valiant return home where he would find solace. But there would be no chair by a fireplace, no warm bed waiting for him - he couldn't return home.

"I'm - tired," Kurt spoke as if it took every bit of strength he had left just to utter those two simple words that held the weight of an unbelievable amount of truth.

He glanced around the room, surveying the damage they had done, his insides a twisted, writhing knot, threatening and yearning to break free. This was his moment to get up and just go - leave it all in the past, the quickly fading pounding of his footsteps on the ground the only proof that he was ever here.

Blaine turned his head to meet Kurt's gaze, his own internal storm clouds swirling about in his head. Blaine was supposed to be dead, and, as far as his brotherhood knew, he was. With Santana gone, he would have been in a position to take over, but he would be a fool to show his face at the base after everything. And he had no desire to do so.

But Kurt...Kurt couldn't just flee without arousing suspicion. He was tied under oath to his brotherhood. Even if he knew he wanted out now.

"We should - we should leave," Blaine finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

"And just - go?" Kurt asked.

"Just - go."

"And we won't stop until we're a lifetime away from this place in some unrecognizable corner of the earth," Kurt said, his own words beginning to make him giddy.

"No matter what we do, we'll always be wanted men," Blaine said. They were both traitors now. Outlaws to the outlaws, lower than scum. They were men without a home, without a cause. They could never return to the lifestyle, but they wondered if they could ever really escape it.

"But we have no other choice," Kurt said, suddenly terrified of his own words, of voicing the truth he had known all along.

"Or maybe this _is_ our choice - we have the opportunity to start over fresh, go back to the start," Blaine offered, realizing that he didn't care what happened from here on out as long as they were together.

"Let's leave this place now before the sun rises. We'll never turn back," Kurt said, remembering his own words. And he had meant them.

Their fight was over, and now it was time for flight.

Kurt had long ago avenged his father's death and had risen up and reclaimed his own honor, but if Kurt were to continue on this path in his life, it would be meaningless. His life was always taking and taking, casting away pieces of himself and the lives of others with the refuse, but now there was something worth keeping. He was Blaine's keeper, and he had promised him that they would make it. And they had. They were alive.

Everything would change, beginning with today.

-A-

It wasn't long after they had settled into a new village before they fell back into old habits. Blaine began working for a smith in town, while Kurt used his hunting skills in order to sell furs and meats in the market.

The locals knew that they weren't from around here, but they took them in and asked no questions, something seemingly simple for which they were both grateful.

They had found a small, homey shack on the edge of town where they resided. It was peaceful. But, it took a long time for both of them to get used to a life like this. A life where their nights were restful, and darkness only acted as a veil for their dreams.

-A-

The door of the shack swung open, and Kurt tilted his head up from where he was seated sharpening his hunting knife to behold an exhausted Blaine, face smudged with dark ash, shirt soaked through with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Blaine kicked his boots off and pulled his shirt off over his head.

"Today took its toll on me," Blaine sighed deeply, dropping down onto one of the chairs at their dining table. "I don't think I've ever been so exhausted. I could fall asleep right here," he added, his eyelids drooping shut as he spoke.

Kurt, whose eyes hadn't left Blaine since the moment he entered, swallowed audibly and set down his knife. He rose from his seat and made his way over to Blaine who had let his head fall wearily back. With the tips of his fingers, Kurt reached out and caressed Blaine's cheek, and Blaine hummed at the contact, leaning his head into Kurt's palm.

"Why don't you let me clean you up?" Kurt leaned in and spoke softly by Blaine's ear.

Blaine's eyes fluttered open at the warmth of Kurt's breath on his neck, and, when he turned to look into Kurt's eyes, he saw that familiar hungry look.

"Yes," Blaine answered with a small grin, "I'd like that."

Kurt grinned, and then he turned to fetch a bucket and cloth.

Blaine felt his heartbeat begin to quicken in his anticipation, and, when Kurt returned, he pulled Blaine up to his feet.

"Now, let's get these pants off, shall we?" Kurt mused as he began to remove Blaine's pants, keeping eye contact as he slipped his fingers into the hem around the waist and pulled them down.

Now that Blaine was completely exposed, Kurt sank down to his knees and, wrapping his hand around Blaine's hardening length, took him fully into his mouth.

Blaine threw his head back and let out a guttural moan. He looked down at Kurt, who was watching him intently as he now licked up the side of Blaine's cock, swirling his tongue around the head. Kurt slowly ran his tongue over the bit of precum that had gathered at the tip and swallowed it eagerly before wrapping his lips around Blaine's cock and taking him into his mouth again.

As Kurt bobbed his head up and down, Blaine's legs began to quiver. When Kurt looked up, he saw that Blaine had closed his eyes, his lips slightly parted, completely lost in ecstasy. Wanting the attention back on him, Kurt took Blaine deeper into his mouth, and his nose brushed against Blaine's abdomen. He felt his eyes begin to water as Blaine's cock hit the back of his throat, and then he pulled off with a pop, a slight bit of saliva trailing from Blaine's cock to his lips.

Blaine needed more. He suddenly pulled Kurt up off his knees, and crashed their lips together. His hands worked furiously to remove Kurt's clothing, but Kurt stopped him, grabbed his wrists, and pushed him firmly against the wall.

"Mm," Kurt hummed, "I love it when you're so eager. Don't worry, we'll get there. Just relax. You know I'll take care of you."

Kurt brought his hand up to Blaine's mouth and dragged a finger across his bottom lip, causing his lips to part. He pushed his finger into Blaine's mouth, gasping slightly as he watched it disappear; Blaine's eyes were brimming with intense desire as he sucked on Kurt's finger. Kurt felt his pants become considerably tighter as he watched Blaine eagerly take another finger into his mouth.

Incapable of holding himself back any longer, Kurt removed his fingers, leaned in, and lightly nipped at Blaine's ear.

"Turn around," Kurt pressed, and Blaine quickly obeyed, allowing Kurt to ease him up against the wall.

Kurt, wasting no time, cupped his hand around Blaine's ass and ran his fingers along his hole, pushing one inside. The pressure sent a tremor down Blaine's spine, and he pounded his fist against the wall.

"Oh - f-fuck, Kurt. I - I'm good. I need _more_."

Kurt obliged, and he pushed a second finger inside, working Blaine open with each thrust.

"Enough," Blaine moaned, "I'm ready - just _fuck_ me already."

"Yeah," Kurt breathed.

Then, turning Blaine around again so they were face to face, he grasped underneath Blaine's ass and, pushing him harder up against the wall, pulled his legs up off the floor. Blaine wrapped his legs around Kurt's waist, anchoring them above his hips as Kurt continued to hold him aloft.

Blaine's cock was now caught between their bodies and throbbed painfully as Kurt positioned himself beneath Blaine and pushed himself slowly inside.

Blaine threw his head back against the wall, closing his eyes as Kurt sucked lightly at his neck, then began to thrust. Kurt quickened his pace once he felt Blaine relax around him.

Kurt pushed harder and deeper upward into Blaine, his breath becoming ragged as he felt himself drawing closer to climax. Blaine's whole body shuddered as he gripped tightly onto Kurt with his arms and legs, and the friction of his cock sliding between their bodies caused a stream of whimpers to escape him.

"Blaine," Kurt groaned gruffly as he lifted Blaine's body a bit and pushed himself deep inside again with the remaining strength in his body. A few more hard thrusts up into Blaine sent him over the edge, coming apart completely.

Kurt slowed his hips, rocking forward as the final tremor from his orgasm traveled through his body. His arms now threatening to go limp, he slowly lowered Blaine onto the floor, allowing him to regain his footing. Kurt dropped his head onto Blaine's shoulder as they both slumped heavily to the floor.

Feeling completely sated, Kurt lifted his head from Blaine's shoulder, and lazily pressed his lips to Blaine's collarbone. Blaine's breath hitched, and he let out a pitiful whimper, alarming Kurt, who looked back up at Blaine's face. Blaine gazed into Kurt's eyes, a question upon his lips that need not be spoken.

Glancing down, Kurt blushed, realizing his mistake, and he wrapped his hand around Blaine's cock. He leaned forward again and took Blaine into his mouth. Blaine laced his fingers through Kurt's hair as Kurt quickened his pace.

Blaine was already near bursting, and, within seconds, he cried out as he came into the wet heat of Kurt's mouth, Kurt swallowing around him. When he pulled off, Kurt looked up and grinned at Blaine's expression; he looked completely blissed out. Then his eyes scanned Blaine's form, taking in the state of his tired limbs and sullied skin, the imprint of a long day of working in the furnace.

"You're still dirty," Kurt purred as he ran his hand gently along the curve of Blaine's slender waist. "Let's get to that bath - yeah?" Kurt asked. Blaine was too wrecked to really register Kurt's request and then sudden departure, but the next thing he knew, Kurt had grabbed the bucket of water and cloth.

"That feels wonderful," Blaine said as the damp cloth touched his warm skin. Kurt gently scrubbed the dirt and soot from Blaine's face before dipping the cloth in the water again to clean the rest of his body.

Kurt's fingers danced across every inch of Blaine as he scrubbed the remnants of the work day from his golden skin, and, when he reached the long, jagged scar on Blaine's thigh, he leaned down and tenderly kissed along its edges. Then he looked up into Blaine's face again, now fresh and clean of the mark of the outside world, and it was as if he was seeing him for the first time. Safe inside this place, Blaine was his, and he was Blaine's. Nothing could touch them or break through the bubble of comfort and love that they had created for each other and now settled within.

"I love you," Kurt said softly, kissing Blaine's temple.

"And I love you," Blaine cooed, opening his eyes now to meet Kurt's gaze. It was alien at first, a phrase neither of them believed they would ever utter. Blaine had let it slip out during a quiet night at home as Kurt cooked the evening meal, catching Kurt off guard. But it became easier to say and was now so comfortable for both of them.

There was something about the choices they had made, about how they had chosen each other as guardians of their lives and hearts that gave life a whole new meaning, made it more vibrant and less like gradually walking towards some bleak death.

-A-

Almost a year had passed, and Kurt and Blaine were faring well, although they still mostly kept to themselves. It was what they were accustomed to, and it was the best way to avoid unwanted questions.

Blaine rolled over in his sleep and wrapped his arm around Kurt, who was snuggled up beside him. A cool breeze drifted through the cracks between the planks that made up the walls of the shack, and Kurt shivered.

The door swung silently open.

As they slept, their breath, which their bodies released in soft, steady puffs, mingled with the cool night air, disturbing the tranquil silence within the dwelling.

But now there were three bodies in the room, the new one breathing much heavier than the others.

The cloaked figure walked over to the side of the bed, weapon drawn, and loomed over their unconscious forms.


	9. Chapter 9

He pulled down his hood to reveal long, wavy blonde hair that fell lightly into his stern, green eyes. He flexed his fingers around the handle of his short sword and bit down on his lip as he felt his pulse quicken. This wasn't an ordinary job - getting caught wasn't a concern. No. This was revenge. This was justice. When a brother goes rogue, he has to pay the penalty.

Sam stepped forward.

After Santana had disappeared, he stepped up to lead the Ravenblood brotherhood. Regardless of any reservations he might have had, this was his duty now. Out of respect, he decided he would never go after Santana. In fact, he was fairly certain that she was already dead. But since that night Kurt broke into the brotherhood, he knew that Blaine was still living and breathing as a traitor.

So it became personal. It took months for him to track down Blaine, but he had finally located him.

He watched them sleep for a moment more as Blaine, whose arm was still wrapped around Kurt, pulled Kurt in closer to his body. Kurt stirred slightly from the movement. His eyes shifted beneath his lids.

Sam was seconds from the attack when Kurt suddenly rolled out of the bed and quickly grabbed the knife from beneath his pillow. Another old habit. He threw himself into Sam and knocked him to the ground. They struggled for a moment as Kurt worked to pin the man. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Kurt flipped him over, jammed his one knee into his chest, the other pinning his arm, and poised his knife by the intruder's neck.

"Not so fast," Kurt growled.

Blaine now rustled about on the bed, suddenly aware that the warm body that had been beside him had vanished. His eyes began to flutter open, and his ears began to gradually register a disturbance.

"Who are you, and who sent you?" Kurt hissed. But he glanced down at the emblem on the man's robes, recognizing it all too well.

"Sam - and no one sent me. I'm here to dispose of a traitor," Sam answered through gritted teeth. Kurt pressed his elbow into Sam's throat, knife still poised, as Sam gasped for air.

"We're done. We're done with all of you. Why can't you leave us alone?" Kurt muttered.

Blaine fully opened his eyes, sat upright, and beheld the sight on the floor before him. Within seconds, his initial waking disorientation melted away, instinct kicked in, and he jumped up out of the bed and rushed to Kurt's assistance.

When Blaine finally made eye contact with the attacker, recognition caused his stomach to twist. Suddenly, this whole situation and the reason behind it dawned on him. He was foolish to believe that his past would not catch up to him. The lies he had woven in the fabrication of his death had unravelled, and now Sam had come to make it his reality.

"Kurt," Blaine said, "tie him up. I want to have a talk with him."

Still in a bit of a daze, Blaine helped Kurt restrain Sam. They propped him up in a chair and secured him to its wooden appendages, making sure to disarm him but not injure him in any way.

"You're both fools," Sam spat.

"You don't know the whole story," Blaine began.

"It doesn't matter. A betrayal is a betrayal, and you must pay the consequences. You tarnished the reputation of the brotherhood and forced a great leader out. I'm standing by my decision."

"You place all the blame on one person, but you have no idea where responsibility actually lies," Kurt continued.

"I know enough of what you two have done, and it's inexcusable. I won't let you get away, and, if you run again, I'll be there. There's no escape but death, Blaine."

Sam glared at Blaine, and fear rippled through his veins as he felt the true weight of those words.

"That may well be...but it doesn't end here. Not tonight," Blaine said. "Sam," he paused, "did you know about Santana's involvement?"

His eyes grew wide for a moment.

"No."

"Does the name Brittany sound familiar to you at all?"

First recognition then anguish flashed in Sam's eyes before he closed them tightly and turned his head to the side to look away.

"Yes. I knew her," he breathed.

"Sam...?" Blaine began, staring intently at the tortured expression that had taken over his features. "Santana was being manipulated, Sam. Brittany was involved - she was locked up. But it's over because we made sure it ended. All I ask is that you let this go, and let us go," Blaine said.

"I can't," Sam said. "You may not feel the same way about the oath we took to remain loyal to the brotherhood, but I will never defy them. We're a broken clan now because of you - and Santana - and I can't let it fall to ruins."

"Do whatever you feel you must, but I made another promise, took another oath, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to take my leave now. I'm not staying around so I can become fodder for the vultures," Blaine said. "Goodbye, Sam."

Kurt began gathering their few belongings as Blaine gagged Sam. They left him there in the chair, fighting against the ropes as they quickly dressed, packed, loaded their possessions onto Artemis, and then, without much hesitation, once again left behind their lives, an established existence.

And they realized that they would forever be running.

There may never be a true means of escape for them; from their demons, past actions, and the lives that shaped them into who and what they had become. They would be marked, hunted, and haunted by the blood they had spilt and the guilt in their hearts. But they had something that could be their saving grace - they had each other for love and protection.

They both had scars to remind them of their past, to remind them of where they had been - like when Kurt, subtle as can be, etched the small _K_ and _B_ into the wall of the tunnel on their final mission to preserve that moment where they were both alive and together. Although they may fade over time, these things would never go away.

And all they could do was keep moving forward, keep fighting to survive.

Because they had chosen life. Life apart from their sordid pasts. Life where they were their own masters, cut free from the strings that controlled them for so long but forever living with the consequences.

Because it never really ends.


End file.
